A War of Wolves
by AaronAlvin
Summary: The Return of the White Walkers has been delayed by the last gasps of the Old Magic. Jon Snow has abandoned his vows to fight alongside his brother in a war of the Five Kings. While the fates of men might be changed, the Old Magic can only hold back the tide of the Others for so long.
1. Chapter One

**DISCLAIMER:**

 **A Song of Ice and Fire, along with all its content and characters, is the property of George R.R. Martin and licensed by HBO. Please support the original material.**

* * *

 _ **This is a new story I've been thinking about. For those who are fans of "The White Dragon", that story is NOT ending, I just wanted to try something different, I still fully intend to keep pumping out chapters for that story.**_

 _ **To give a little more background before you start reading this, everything that has happened in AGOT is the same aside from what has gone on at the wall. The Others arrival has been delayed, which means no** **w** **ights attacked Mormont, Jon never burns his hand nor is he given Longclaw, the only thing that is the same is that Benjen Stark has gone missing. Aside from that, everything else is how it happened in the books up to this point.**_

 _ **With that said, I hope you enjoy this first chapter!**_

* * *

 **Chapter One:**

 **Jon**

Jon knelt over a small fire in the woods as he cooked a freshly killed hare. He'd been living off smaller game for weeks as he'd ridden down from the North. His midnight ride from Castle Black was still fresh in his mind, the cold of the night, the beat of his heart as he put league after league between him and the wall. He'd been lucky enough when he left to have been unseen, though part of him still regretted leaving Samwell behind without so much as a goodbye. Though he thought it best, should his friend have tried to stop him he might have made no further than the Gift before he would have been ridden down.

Looking over his shoulder Jon eyed Ghost as his friend panted as he lay next to his bedroll. Jon peeled off a sliver of the cooked rabbit and offered it to his companion. Ghost slowly stretched his neck out and sniffed the offering before he licked the meat from Jon's open palm. Jon ruffled the direwolf's white coat before he began to eat the lean meat.

It had been some time since he'd enjoyed a full belly, though that was to be expected given his circumstances. He'd no coin, and his name was a danger to himself. Winterfell had never been an option, Maester Luwin would have never let him within the castle walls, though he knew Bran would have wished to see him inside. The first few days had been the hardest, his first goal had been to rid himself of his blackened attire, he'd found a suitable green tunic and brown breeches. He'd kept his black riding boots, though he had traded the black wool coat of the Watch for a brown one. It had been more ragged and worn than his old one, but it kept wondering eyes off him.

He'd been on the King's Road until he'd left the Gift, from there he'd trekked through the county, and through streams and forest until at last he'd come to the banks of Long Lake. He'd followed the western shoreline and then the White Knife until he'd reached a small village. There he'd traded his mare for a fresher, though older, horse from a man. He'd thanked him and kept on south until he'd crossed the fork of the river to continue on south. From there he'd cut across the Barrowlands down to the Neck.

It had been Lucky Jon had evaded capture all this time. He'd kept to himself, he only ever ventured into villages and towns if his need was urgent, and when he did he kept to himself. The hardest part of the journey thus far had been his passing between The Twins and Seagard. He'd seen riders more often combing the countryside as he'd entered the Riverlands. Jon had expected the Lords of the Southern Kingdom to be on edge, though it still had been a burden to him. Wither or not they were looking for a brother of the Night's Watch didn't matter to Jon, he expected they any man worth this salt would want to question an armed man within their lands with a war raging on.

He was now nearing the end of his journey. He wondered how his brother might greet him. Jon imagined prayed their reunion would be a joyous one, but he doubted it. By law, Jon was a deserter, an oathbreaker, Robb's duty as a Lord- no, as king, was to relieve him of his head. Jon knew that risk the moment he decided to abandon his vows. All the same, he had to believe his brother would understand, if he didn't . . .

Jon banished the thought. His brother wouldn't kill him, and if he did Jon knew the risk he'd taken. He'd forfeited his life to Robb long ago, it was up to his brother to decide his fate once he arrived at Riverrun. Jon only hoped that Robb would still linger there a while longer. He'd remember hearing the rumors of the capture of the Kingslayer, and then later the news of his brother's Crowning. The King in the North they called him now. Jon wished he could have been there to see it, but he'd have time to make up for missing it once he arrived in Riverrun.

Once Jon had finished the hare, he'd put out the cooking fire and stomped out the embers. Bundling up his sleeping roll Jon found his horse still tied to the same branch where he'd left him. Patting the beast, Jon fixed the roll to his saddle and checked the straps to ensure they were all still taut. Satisfied, Jon untied the grey horse from his branch and climbed into his saddle. Pulling the reins, Jon turned himself south and started back on his path to Riverrun. This would be his last day of riding, if he was correct he'd reach the castle by dusk, maybe a little later.

Looking out to the woods Jon watched as Ghost vanished into the brush. Jon had long since become accustomed to the direwolf venturing off on his own, particularly when he went out to hunt. It was strange, but Jon thought he could almost feel exactly where Ghost was as he was never quite surprised to see Ghost return or leave. It was as if he never truly lost his friend, even when they were apart. Jon had even dreamt he was Ghost at times. He could feel, smell and taste everything Ghost did. It almost felt natural to him, but that was what had scared him the most upon waking, how easy it was to slip into the skin of his wolf. Jon was beginning to have those dreams more and more, and in truth, it had begun to frighten him.

Guiding his horse along a thin stream Jon led his horse along the flow until he spotted a long riverbank just out of the tree line. Smirking Jon knew it to be the Redfork. If he followed it westward it would lead him to where the river forked into the Tumblestone, and there would lay Riverrun.

Jon felt a tinge of pride that he'd managed to make it this far on his own. He imagined many would have been lost or captured before they could have even slipped past Winterfell. Yet here he was, less than a day's ride from Riverrun. Jon fully expected his journey to end with him being taken captive by Tully or Stark bannermen once he approached the castle, from there, he'd have to leave his fate with Robb.

Jon followed the river for hours, staying out of the open as long as he could, though the closer he traveled to Riverrun the sparser the brush became until at last Jon came to a path and eventually a bridge that took him to the River Road. Jon had decided he would give up trying to hide off the main road once the sun had begun to dip low in the sky.

Jon traveled unimpeded until dusk had fallen, it was then that he saw three riders coming up the River Road. Jon rested his hand in his lap near enough to his longsword should he have need of it. Looking at the oncoming men, Jon saw they were flying the silver trout of House Tully. Relaxing, Jon moved his hand from his blade. Jon maintained his course as the men came near. Slowing his horse to a trot, Jon watched as the men spread out as they came upon him. Jon lifted his hand and hailed them as the three surrounded him. Jon stopped to look them up and down as they eyed him back in turn.

The three were dressed in brown boiled leather with a coat of mail underneath and pointed helms adorned their heads. Each man was carrying a spear, a sword upon their belts and frowns upon their lips. The man carrying the Tully banner spoke for the three as he watched Jon. "What brings you this close to Riverrun, friend?" The man said, his voice coated heavy with suspicion.

Jon thought of how he might approach this exact situation for days, and still, he felt his nerves rising, but he calmed himself before he spoke. "I've come to seek an audience with Robb Stark." Jon declared.

The men laughed at that. "You want to see King Robb, do you?" The man was breaking out in laughter. "That's a good one. Take him for questioning." The man motioned to the other two who pointed their spears at Jon's chest.

"My name is Jon Snow." The bastard brother of the king declared. "I am the son of Lord Eddard Stark, and brother to King Robb."

The man lifted his hand and the two men raised their spears in response. "Jon Snow, you say? I'd heard you was a member of the Watch. Word came down from the wall they want your head for abandoning the Watch."

Jon felt tense but remained calm. "Aye, that's the truth of it."

The man pondered his options for a moment before he spoke once more. "If you wasn't the king's brother I'd just cut your head off right here and now, what with you being a deserter and all," The man declared. "But it ain't up to us, that's his Grace's decision I reckon. Take his weapon and bind his hands." The man declared.

Jon wanted to protest that he'd be no trouble, but the men moved without his asking. Jon watched as they took his dagger and sword from his belt and he did nothing as they bound his hands together. Jon grunted at the tightness of the knot as they took the reins of his horse and led him along the River Road. Jon looked to the opposite bank and saw Ghost lingering out in the tall grass watching as they led him away. Jon could sense the distress in the direwolf, but he seemed to understand well enough to stay put.

Two of the men flanked Jon on either side as the third road ahead of him. Jon didn't struggle or make a fuss as they took him closer to Riverrun and eventually through the vast encampment of Robb's army. Tents stretched out throughout the area surrounding the castle of Riverrun, which sat moated in the middle of the fork of the Tumblestone and Redfork Rivers. Jon had read of the gates that once opened flooded the western shore of the castle, Jon saw Riverrun to only be an island, so he expected the moat was still in full use, though the castle had its drawbridge lowered, allowing men to stream in and out of the castle's walls.

Jon remained upon his horse as the three men took him within the castle walls. Jon felt a hundred eyes glancing in his direction as the one of the men helped him from his horse. Looking around Jon felt his nerves starting to build in his gut as doubt started to creep in.

"Go inform Lord Edmure of our find," the leader told the party informed the man to his left. Nodding the man walked away, slipping through large open doors into the inner castle. "Galen, go find this one a cell for the time being." The man named Galen grabbed Jon roughly by the arm as he was taken into the castle.

The dungeons of the castle where dark and damp, despite being above ground. There were no windows to speak of, and the doors of that lead into the chamber whereof thick oak and barred with hard iron. Jon sat behind iron bars in a pile of damp hay as he waited for someone to retrieve him.

There was a rustle of chains from the cell across from his, but Jon couldn't see who'd caused the commotion in the darkness. There was a long moment of silence before the unseen figure spoke up.

"I saw you coming in, through the crack of light when the guard opened the door." The voice sounded familiar to Jon, though he couldn't place it. "I've seen you before, it took me a moment, but I think I've got it." Jon didn't answer. "Oh, come now, it's no fun if you don't talk back. We've nothing better to do after all."

"Who might you be then?" Jon replied.

"See, that's no fun either Snow. I am correct, aren't I? You are Lord Eddard Stark's bastard, the one who ran away from the Night's Watch."

"I didn't run away from the Watch, I left so I could be here." Jon snapped at the man.

"Here, in this dungeon cell? Brilliant plan." He replied sarcastically. "One has to wonder if your brother will take your head. After all, Lord Eddard was always a stickler for the rules, I suppose his pups would be too. Aside from his bastard, obviously."

"Shut up." Jon spat back, his blood was starting to run hot.

"Sorry, didn't mean to anger you." The man replied sarcastically. "But you do have to wonder how your father might have reacted to seeing this. I wonder what he'd do with you, the late honorable Eddard. I'm of the mind he'd probably chop off your head."

"I said shut up!" Jon shouted at the man.

"Oh, you're certainly quicker to anger than your father, that's for sure." The man chuckled. "On the bright side, we're kindred spirits, you and I. Both of us oathbreakers."

"Kingslayer." Jon cursed the man. "We are nothing alike."

"Took you long enough." Ser Jaime Lannister replied. "You really aren't that sharp you know. And besides, we both broke sacred vows, yours a little less sacred and far duller, but vows none the less."

"I hope you rot in this cell until the end of your days." Jon spat at the man.

"Unlikely," The Kingslayer retorted. "I'll either be ransomed, killed, or if I'm lucky you'll all be killed, and I'll finally get to take a nice hot bath."

"Unlikely," Jon replied, throwing the Kingslayer's words back in his face. The man chuckled.

"Maybe you're a bit wittier than I first gave you credit." Ser Jamie chuckled. "Well, at any rate, you might not get to see how my story ends, Jon Snow."

Jon kept quiet after that, having grown sick of the Kingslayer's company. For several hours Jon sat in the dark before he'd grown tired. Eventually, his eyes had started to droop, and he'd laid upon the bed of hay and before he'd found some sleep in the dark. He remained like that until there was a stir at the door that woke him. Looking up Jon saw two men come inside the room, one carrying a torch above his head, though it seemed pointless as the light of morning came pouring in after them. "Jon Snow, you're to come with us."

"Best of luck," The Kingslayer said sarcastically. Looking over to the dirt covered knight. Jon said nothing in reply as he followed the men from the dungeon, leaving the man to rot alone in the dark.

* * *

 **Robb**

Robb Stark stood behind his grandfather's desk, his crown of iron and bronze weighed heavy on his brow as he looked down upon is half-brother as who was kneeling before him. Robb had always loved Jon despite his birth, he knew his well of his mother's disdain for him. He could recall receiving the letter from Lord Commander Mormont about Jon's desertion. The news had spread quickly through the North as ravens had reached every hold and castle from the Last Hearth to Moat Cailin, each demanding the Kings Justice for breaking the sacred vow of the Watch. His Mother had been counseling him that Jon should be treated like any other deserter, that he deserved his head taken for his broken honor as a sworn brother.

 _You mustn't let the men think your justice is unfair._ _Should you not give Jon your justice the men will think you've no justice at all,_ his mother had declared. _It'll be hard for you, I know, but you must do what is right._

Despite her words, Robb felt sick at the thought of condemning Jon to death, and now looking upon him Robb felt even worse at the thought. He felt better with Brynden and the Greatjon at his sides to counsel him. He'd imaged his mother being there, the thought made him glad she'd already left to seek an audience with Renly Baratheon. He would have hated her to be here in his grandfather's solar whilst they spoke to Jon, and besides that, he already knew her stance.

"Leave us," Robb commanded the two guards who'd escorted Jon from the cell he'd been taken to upon his arrival to Riverrun. The men bowed before turning to leave, the thick oak door closing behind them as they left. It was now just the four of them, and for a moment they all just stewed in silence. Jon looked tired, but Robb couldn't sense any fear from him, in fact, he seemed to be standing tall as he faced him. "You may rise."

"Your Grace," Jon kept his head bowed before him, Jon's voice sounded tired as he looked, Robb suspected that the past few weeks had been rather hard for him.

"When I received the raven I didn't believe it, but here we are," Robb said bitterly. "I'd have never expected you to be one to break his vows, Jon Snow."

"They killed father," Jon retorted. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Let me handle it!" Robb shouted. He felt his fury rise as he pounded the desk before him. "Gods Jon, you know what happens to deserters as good as anyone. You took your oath, you became a brother of the Night's Watch."

"I couldn't do nothing, I just couldn't." Jon let out a deep sigh. "They killed him, and they have Arya and Sansa now, what am I if I don't do everything I can to protect my family, my _real_ family."

"You're a fool that's what you are, a stupid fool." Robb cursed as he shook his head. "I'm King now Jon, it's expected of me to give a King's justice!"

Robb saw Jon stew for a moment. He knew that Jon meant well, but Robb couldn't think that perhaps he hadn't considered his position as Lord and now King in the North. It was a bloody mess. "Your Grace, I came here-"

"Abandoning your vow's," The blackfish noted.

"Aye, abandoned my vow's so I might give my life to Robb." Jon raised his voice to emphasize the point. "That is all I can give him, and should he decide I'm to be killed for my treason, then so be it. I knew the risk the moment I decided to ride from the wall. I could have been captured a hundred times since then, but the gods allowed me to make it here to stand before my brother, my king."

Robb looked at Jon for a long moment, he was decidedly committed to his decision to be here with him. Robb had missed Jon dearly since he'd left for the wall, and now here he was willing to fight in his war. Robb wondered if he'd have done the same if he were in Jon's position. Robb drummed his fingers against the wood of the desk as he toiled with what to do, he stood there glaring at Jon for a long moment before he'd finally made up his mind. "I'm not going to take your head, and you're no use to anyone rotting in a cell somewhere," Robb declared, Jon seemed to relax a bit at his words. "I'll have you pardoned for your abandonment of the Watch. However, for breaking your oath, you'll be flogged down in the yard for all to see. If that doesn't suit you I can send you back to Lord Commander Mormont."

Jon seemed to tighten his shoulders and back upon the word of his punishment. Robb wanted to pardon him and be done with the matter, but he had to hold the men under his command to a standard. Letting Jon join his army without punishment for breaking his vows would send the wrong message and killing him was something he refused to consider. Sending him back to the watch was also a death sentence, Mormont would have to take his head for leaving the Watch. No, this was the safest course of action he could take.

"I understand. Thank you, Your Grace." Jon bowed. "When shall it take place," Jon asked rather calmly.

"As soon as we're done here." Robb declared. "Best to get this matter done with now." Robb then turned to address Greatjon. "Lord Umber, see my brother to the yard, send one of the guards to gather everyone in the courtyard. Make sure there is a Maester to tend to Jon afterward."

The Greatjon nodded as the strode across the room alongside Jon. "Come with me boy." Jon looked to Robb once more before he was led by the towering Lord Umber out of the room.

Once his half-brother had left them Robb let out a long sigh as he removed the heavy metal crown from his head, setting it on the desk as he slumped into his grandfather's chair. Pressing his hand to his face Robb attempted to rub the stress from his eyes. He felt like it had been an age since he'd called his banners and ridden south, he imagined this is how his father must have felt when he'd gone to war with Robert.

"It's not easy, Your Grace," Brynden stated.

"Did I make the right decision?" Robb asked himself more than his great uncle.

"You don't need the ghost of your father's bastard hanging over your head, and the boy seems loyal, perhaps to a fault if anything. I will say you did the right thing by having him flogged. If he were a Stark it might not have been the best decision, but he's a snow. Some lords will be angry he's not being beheaded, but most will be satisfied with a flogging. No one can say he hasn't paid for breaking his vow's this way." Brynden said. "Now the real question you ought to be asking is who'll be doing said flogging."

"Anyone I suppose." Robb declared.

"No, respectfully, I believe that's the wrong answer, Your Grace," Brynden stated. "If it were some random knight or man at arms I would agree, but this is your father's son we're talking about, your half-brother. It can't be just anyone to give out your justice on him."

Robb knew what the Blackfish was getting at, all the old knight was waiting for was for Robb to verbalize it himself. "The man who passes the sentence," Robb recalled his father's words.

"Exactly. It'll mean more coming from you. Those not satisfied with a flogging will at least have to respect you for carrying it out yourself. It might even be better for Snow in the long run." Ser Brynden reasoned.

Robb nodded, rising from his chair he placed his crown upon his head. "I wish," Robb uttered to himself, though he chose not to finish his sentence. Instead, he walked from the room, as the Blackfish followed him out.

Navigating the castle, Robb found his way down to the courtyard, when he'd come down a small crowd had already gathered. Robb noted several of the lords and ladies in attendance. Lord Karstark, Lord Glover, Lady Mormont, and his uncle Edmure, all watched on as Robb arrived. The Greatjon stood towering next to Jon where a wooden post had been erected.

Every man and women's eyes looked upon him as he presided over them. Clearing his throat Robb projected his voice over them. "I have brought you here, so you might see my justice done. Jon Snow of Winterfell was a sworn brother of the Night's Watch. He took a vow which he broke by abandoning his post to come here in hopes he might help avenge the death of our father." Robb looked upon his brother. "The law states that for his crime of deserting his position as a sworn brother he is to be executed. However, as king, I have decided to use my authority to pardon Jon Snow of his oath, releasing him from his vows to the Watch, but for his intent to break his vows, he must be punished." Robb turned to Brynden Tully who'd already had a whip fetched that was now clutched in his right hand. Nodding to his great uncle, his adviser handed him the instrument of his brother's punishment. "Jon Snow, you shall be given fifteen lashes."

Upon his command, the two men stripped Jon of his shirt and tied him to the post. A leather strip was given to Jon to bite on as Robb walked over to him. Jon Umber offered looked at the whip in Robb's hand and smirked as he stepped back from the two. Robb stood over his half-brother, the whip in hand. He knew his brother would bleed, though the whip he was to use wouldn't leave any permanent scars on him.

"I'm sorry Jon," Robb whispered to his brother before he rose the whip above his head, bringing it down upon his brother's back. The sound of its crack made Robb flinch as Jon let out a cry between his gritted teeth. Part of Robb wanted to stop, but he found himself striking Jon again, and then again and again and again until at last, he'd seen it through. Robb was panting hard as he looked down at Jon's red and bloody back. His brother had gone limp at the post and was letting out low groans of pain.

Robb stepped back from his brother as the Greatjon came over and took the whip from his grasp. Robb swallowed hard before he turned back to those around him. "I seek to be fair, I will give my justice to any, be they lowborn, highborn," Robb looked upon Jon. "Or even my own blood." Turning Robb stomped past Lord Umber, and then commanded the nearest guard to have Jon taken to see the Maester.

Leaving, Robb saw Grey Wind, whistling the direwolf came to his side. Robb retreated to his chamber, he refused to break his fast, he'd not the stomach for it now.


	2. Chapter Two

**DISCLAIMER:**

 **A Song of Ice and Fire, along with all its content and characters, is the property of George R.R. Martin and licensed by HBO. Please support the original material.**

* * *

 **Chapter Two:**

 **Jon**

Jon groaned as his back ached, the wrappings of bandages covered freshly knitted skin that was still sore to the touch. He'd been bedridden for days with pain. The bandages on his back had needed changing several times in that span by the Maester of Riverrun. After his wounds had closed the man had given Jon a thick pungent ointment for his pain, after that he'd seen nothing of the old man. Sitting up from his bed, Jon slipped a grey shirt over his head and pulled up a pair of black breeches. Jon cursed the cloth as the only colors of fresh clothes he'd been offered were dark, he imagined it was some kind of barb at him.

In the corner of the room, Ghost sat observing him. He'd remembered when the direwolf had appeared at the gate of the castle, there had been a brief panic before Robb himself had been forced to personally intervene. Jon had heard a man had tried to skewer him with a lance and Ghost had ripped into the man's arm for the act. It was said that Robb was ripe with fury after hearing they had tried to kill his own wolf's kin. After that, his companion had been brought to him by three very nervous men.

Gritting his teeth, Jon pulled himself up from his bed, the task took far more effort than he would have like. Standing, Jon stretched his back, flexing the tight muscles in spite of the pain it caused him. The last thing he wanted was for the tightness to persist, the Maester had even commanded him to do so explained that it was a part of the healing process.

Looking around, Jon found his longsword sheathed in its black moleskin leaned up against the post of his bed. Strapping the belt around his hips Jon fixed a dagger opposite his sword. He felt safer with the blade at his side, especially now.

It seemed everyone within Riverrun despised him, more so the Northmen than those of the Riverlands. Despite his brother's pardon, Jon could hear men calling him oathbreaker behind his back. He'd known it unlikely that he'd find friends like those at Castle Black. There was no Grenn, Pyp, Haider, Halder, Samwell or anyone else like them to stand by his side. Jon didn't even have Robb as he hadn't seen his brother since he'd carried out his flogging. Jon suspected that he wouldn't see much of soon either. It was already a stain to have allowed him to live and along with him now joining the Northern army, to have him sitting in on a war council would be too much for even the most understanding of lords.

Leaving his quarters with Ghost at his heels, Jon walked the halls of the castle until he found his way into the Great Hall. Servants had already brought food out from the kitchens to men who were breaking their fasts, chatting amongst one another on the lower benches. Avoiding the few men in the hall, Jon had a servant fetch him a platter of salted pork and a cup of mead. Finding an empty bench, Jon sat as the food was brought to him by a young lad who eyed Ghost who served the food before quickly darting away. Jon knew that his wolf made most of the men uneasy, even Robb's Grey Wind scared them.

Tearing off a chunk of meat Jon offered it to Ghost before breaking his fast. Eating quietly, Jon had finished half of his meal and downed the majority of his drink when a loud commotion came from the entrance of the hall. Turning, Jon watched as Theon Greyjoy strolled into the hall with several men at his back. He was in the middle of finishing some jest about some whore he'd been fucking, though Jon paid him no mind, he was the last person he'd want to speak to.

"Jon Snow," Theon bellowed, as a smug stupid look crossed his face. "How is the Bastard of Winterfell wearing his scars? I'm sorry I wasn't there to see Robb give you your beating, I've been told it was quite the sight to behold. Unfortunately, I was having a bit of fun with two lovely wenches, not that you'd know anything about that Snow."

Jon looked at Theon with a sharp glare, he didn't care to hide his disdain for the Greyjoy. Jon had always hated Theon. The son of Balon Greyjoy had always looked for a chance to belittled Jon, always taking the opportunity to spit down on him. While Jon might have been the son of Ned Stark, he himself was not a Stark, he was just a Snow, a bastard, this allowed Theon to take his resentment out on him. Jon suspected that Theon had always had a certain amount of hatred he'd buried for his father after the Greyjoy Rebellion. Jon thought that perhaps Theon had always looked to take it out on Jon, as he could never hope to do so to any of Lady Catelyn's children. Though the thought had never quenched his anger toward Theon.

Jon stood and faced Theon wishing he could knock the smug look off the Greyjoy's arrogant face. "What is it you want Theon?"

"I just came to get something to eat before I leave on an important diplomatic matter for King Robb. I'd thought he'd have told you all about it, what with you being his brother and all." Theon taunted him. "No? Well, it must be the desertion, or maybe it's just him being afraid to be seen with his father's bastard."

Ghost let out a low rumble that matched Jon's anger perfectly. Jon wanted to hit him, every fiber of him wanted to strike the man, but that was what Theon wanted him to do, for him to get angry and lash out. Jon was already on the edge of a knife, striking the ingrate would only offer him a moment's satisfaction.

"I wish you the best of luck in your diplomatic mission then," Jon said, "hopefully you won't be too missed on the battlefield."

Theon chuckled. "I'm certain Robb will manage, even if he'll have to have someone hold your hand, Snow."

Jon bit his tongue and motioned Ghost to his side, his direwolf let out another rumble at Theon before he'd come to Jon. Leaving the Great Hall, Theon tossed another barb at him that drew a few laughs from the men around him, but Jon was done listening to the ingrate drone on.

Jon spent the rest of the day in the yard practicing swordplay with anyone who didn't turn their nose up at him the moment he looked in their direction. When he'd, at last, finished his back felt stiff and sore. He'd heard the news of Theon's departure, Robb and a few others had gone to see him off, but Jon didn't attend, he could only stand so much of the man.

It had been odd, being so close to Robb and yet not being able to approach him. Jon suspected that would never change now that his brother wears a crown. Gods how Jon wished things could be the way they were before. He missed Bran climbing and running around, Arya getting into all kinds of mischief, little Rickon tugging on his pant leg, oddly enough, he even missed seeing Sansa turn her nose up at him. At that moment part of him wished he'd never left for the wall, never put forced Robb to go against the wishes of many of his lord, but here he was. Jon then steeled himself, he was after all fighting for his sisters, along with the memory of his father. It was as noble a goal as he could ever ask for.

Despite his situation, Jon wished he could have been of more use to Robb, he felt rather useless as they sat in Riverrun, waiting for the war to carry on. Sitting on his bed he looked at Ghost, Jon wished for a fight, and he hoped they would find one soon.

* * *

 **ROBB**

Robb stood over a map that had been sprawled out on a long table in the center of Hoster Tully's solar. As light from the study's hearth filled the room the young king studied the landmarks of both the Riverlands and Westernlands. Robb had summoned his war council in the night as he'd grown restless of sitting at Riverrun despite his pending offer of peace. He knew that the offer was a bitter one for the Lannisters, he had no expectations of his terms being accepted, and he found he could no longer stomach to remain stagnant. Looking around the room Robb listened as his generals spoke, each giving their advice as he himself thought on how he might proceed.

"Too many of the Riverlords have run back home after we crushed the Kingslayer, we're bleeding numbers too quickly for comfort." Ser Brynden declared.

"Tywin and the bulk of his force are held up in Herrenhal but he's sent his raiding parties loose on the Riverlands." Edmure said. "A few of the raids have been foiled, but my father's lords grow more and more restless. I cannot ask they stay put in Riverrun while their lands burn, and their subjects are slaughtered, Your Grace."

"I've already given plenty riverlords leave to retake their homes," Robb retorted.

"I'd heard Ser Gregor Clegane butchered the entirety of House Darry. Put them to the sword, every one of them down to even the children." Lord Gilbert Glover said bitterly.

"We should root the Lannisters out from their hole, send them running home." Dacey Mormont bellowed, Jon had known the Lady of Bear Island to be as fierce as any man he'd ever known.

"We can't very well march on Herrenhal, not without suffering heavy losses." The Greatjon declared. "Held up in that ruin like the fucking ingrates they are. Lord Tywin's scared to take the field, knows he'll be handed another defeat."

"I'm more concerned with Ser Stafford Lannister's host to our west. They are also being commanded by Ser Devan Lannister, but brighter than his father, and a far better tactician as I'm told." Robb scratched his auburn beard, recalling his great-uncle telling him about the Lannister force which would soon be leaving the safety of the Westerlands. "If Tywin is complacent to remain in Herrenhal, then we should use it to our advantage." Robb declared. "If he's not going to move against us here, then we might as well give him a taste of his own medicine by taking the fight to his own front door."

"You'd have to besiege the Golden Tooth to make it into the Westerlands. That would take time, time for Stafford and his men to arrive on one side and Tywin on the other." Edmure pointed out.

"Who said anything about besieging the Golden Tooth?" Robb smirked. "We'll slip past the Tooth, with luck they won't expect us as we smash this new Lannister army. Then we'll set the Westerlands aflame, forcing Tywin to abandon his campaign in the Riverlands to defend his own lands."

" _The King in the North."_ Jon Umber boasted with a wide grin.

"I'll be glad to kill Lannisters in their own homes." Lord Karstark declared, Robb knew the man to still be ripe with anger as his need for vengeance for both of his son's deaths drove the lord's every action.

"What of Lord Bolton's forces?" Lady Mormont asked.

Robb frowned. He was still frustrated with the lord after The Bolton's defeat at the hand of Lord Tywin at the Green Ford. Bolton had lost them many good men and had several of his generals taken captive by the Worden of the West. Lord Roose had retreated to the ruby ford where he now remained idle. "Lord Bolton's army can remain in the Riverlands to keep Tywin from marching back in." Robb declared.

"What of my own forces?" Edmure asked.

"I'll leave you here with your garrison Uncle. Riverrun is vital, and I would not have you abandon your father's side. He should have someone of his family near him during the last of his days." Robb had wished he could have spent more time with his dying grandfather, his memories of the man where few and far between one another. It was a curse that he should have to die now that his family could have used his help. "Additionally, I need someone I can trust to keep an eye on the Kingslayer."

"I thank you for your consideration nephew. I'd have liked to join you in the field, but you have the right of it, Your Grace, I am needed in Riverrun."

Looking around, it appeared that everyone seemed to be in agreement with his plan. Robb dispatched orders for his men to be ready to march at first light. Bowing, one by one each man left the room until only the Blackfish remained. He stood and observed Robb for a moment before he crossed the room and fetched two goblets along with a thin pitcher of wine that had been set aside on a side table at the far corner of the room. Pouring two glasses he offered one to Robb, who eyed for a moment it before he accepted the offering. Taking a sip of the drink Robb found it to be far more bitter than the summer wines of the south, though he found it to still be to his satisfaction.

"If the gods are good, Theon will convince his father to support our cause." If not, we might yet manage but ships would help to bring a swift end to the Lannisters.

"I have my doubts about Greyjoy."

"I can't say I'd ever truly trust Lord Balon, but my offers fair and he could never hope to hold Pyke alone, King Robert proved that."

"You're right to mistrust Lord Balon, but it's Theon Greyjoy who worries me." Ser Brynden said gruffly.

Robb raised his eyebrow as he looked at the knight. "Has my mother spoke with you on that subject?"

"Aye, your mother told me about him, but it's more than that. I don't like sending him back to Pyke. Do you recall the Greyjoy rebellion, Your Grace?"

"I remember my father being gone and mother being worried for him. Father rarely brought up the war, I think he wished to spare Theon the memory."

The Blackfish nodded. "Well, Theon lost two brothers and watched as his home burned before he was ripped from Pyke. I can't say wither he might or might not have held onto a bit of resentment toward your House for what happened."

"Theon has proved himself loyal, as I told mother he saved Bran's life, and you saw his courage at the Whispering Woods."

"I don't doubt him as a warrior, nor his bravery. I suspect he is rather fond of you, doubtless, he respects you. However, I wonder how returning home might change him. The Ironborn are a different type be it their religion or their traditions, and Balon is a slimy creature. King Robert should have killed him after the war, but your father talked him out of it. I'd caution you not to make the same mistake with your foes, Your Grace."

"My father cautioned mercy when there is room for it. I found that admirable."

"Mercy is indeed admirable, but only to a point, Your Grace. Your father was rather reckless with his honor and mercy in my mind. Too much mercy and you might just let the wrong people live." The Blackfish counseled as he downed the contents of his cup.

Robb stroked his chin. "Regardless, I trust Theon, he's never given me cause not to."

"As you say, Your Grace."

Setting his empty cup aside Robb rose from his chair as Brynden did the same. "If that is all."

"There is one last thing I'd like to ask."

"Yes?"

"I wonder, what are your plans for Snow?"

Robb frowned. He'd asked himself the same several times since he'd undertaken the flogging of his bastard brother. Part of him thought it wiser to send him back North to Winterfell and command him to watch over Bran and Rickon. Though he knew Jon had left the Watch to help avenge their father, not sit behind the walls of their home waiting for him to win the war. Jon might sooner try to storm King's Landing on his own than accept such an order, and Robb couldn't find it in himself to blame him. No, his brother was a part of his war, wither his lords liked it or not. "Jon will march with us. He came to fight for me, and so he shall. I intend to give him the honor of fighting in the vanguard."

"The van? You'll be putting him through it." Ser Brynden seemed surprised.

"I'll be plain, Jon is not well liked, you know that. He'll never be respected if he doesn't prove himself useful. Should he do well he'll prove my decision to spare him and accept his sword to be a wise one. I want to see him honored, not spat down upon."

"And if he dies?"

Robb didn't like to think about Jon, or any of his lords for that matter, dying in battle, but this was war and death was a harsh reality of battle. "He knew the risks of his actions. Besides, he has Ghost at his side and he's better with a sword than I. It'd take quite the man to put him down."

"I see," Brynden set aside his cup as he gave Robb a small bow. "That's all I have, Your Grace."

Robb saw him out as he retreated to his own chamber where Grey Wind awaited him. Setting his crown beside his bed, Robb slipped out of his garments as he laid his head to rest. Closing his eyes, Robb's last thoughts were of the long campaign yet to come.

* * *

 **BRAN**

Bran sat beside Maester Luwin as the man read aloud from a message that had arrived from Riverrun by the way of a raven. "By my declaration, Jon Snow of Winterfell has hereby been pardoned from his vows to the ancient and honorable order of the Night's Watch. Signed Robb Stark, the King in North and of the Trident."

Rolling up the thin parchment the old maester set aside the message and seemed to think for a long moment. Snatching up the paper, Bran read over the letter himself, slowly looking each over word as a long smile grew on his face. "I knew Robb wouldn't hurt Jon," Bran said happily. He recalled when Luwin had first read the letter from the Lord Commander of the Watch. Bran still remembered when Rickon had overheard some of the men begin to talk about Jon being executed for deserting the Watch. His younger brother had been broken down into tears.

"I don't want anyone to hurt Jon." He'd said between cries. Bran suspected that the thought of Jon dying reminded him of father's own death. In truth, Bran had been frightened for Jon nearly as much as Rickon had been. One night he had a nightmare that he was with Robb and Theon out in the countryside, his father was there as well, standing over Jon with his sword Ice in hand. It was just like the day they had found Summer and the other direwolves, but instead of a nameless brother of the Night's Watch, it had been Jon who his father took him to see beheaded. On his shoulder was perched the three-eyed raven of his dreams.

 _"_ _Don't look away. Father will know if you do."_ The raven had crowed, it's voice sharp as steel as it mimicked the words of his brother.

Bran didn't look away as horrifying as it was. He watched as the dream of his father took off Jon's head in a single stroke. His bastard brother's blood ran out hot, so hot in fact that it even caught fire. Bran had woken after that, sweating in his bed.

"Jon isn't going to be hurt anymore?" Rickon asked hopefully as he looked up from his morning meal.

"No, not anymore." Luwin reassured his brother. Rickon smiled, the news seemed to bring his brother some reassurance, now all he had to cry about was Robb and their mother's absence.

"I knew Robb wouldn't hurt Jon," Bran said confidently. "He's going to help Robb avenge father. I just know it."

"I'm certain Jon has the best intentions at heart, but I wonder if his pardon won't cause your brother more grief than having Jon by his side is worth." Luwin sighed. "I hope I am wrong, but it is a rare thing to pardon a deserter of the Watch. I fear many of the lords of the North will not take the action lying down."

"Robb is king, he can do what he wants. Can't he?"

"Even kings must heed the will of their lords from time to time. Anger them enough and they might take up arms against you. Just as your brother has against King Joffrey and your father against King Aerys before that."

"That's not the same." Bran insisted.

"No, but small slights can wear down on you, especially in times such as these."

After breakfast, Rickon had gone to play some game or another with the Frey boys while Luwin had Bran carried in his study. It wasn't uncommon for him to spend long hours of the day there now that his legs useless. The time that had once been used to learn to ride, hunt and fight were now being used by the old maester to fill his head with names, dates, sigils, and titles. Bran felt he now had little time for sitting in the godswood with Summer at his side. He missed the wolf laying at the end of his bed, but since the Frey's had been bitten by Shaggydog Maester Luwin had confined them to the kennel. He wished he could run out and let Summer and Shaggydog loose, he wished he could get up from his chair and walk away from these dull study sessions. _Fly not run. You must learn to fly._

 _I wish I could fly, but I can't._ Bran thought to himself.

"Bran, are you listening?" Luwin snapped. Shaken from his thoughts, Bran looked back to the book in front of him and glanced over the list of Houses and the names of faceless lords.

"S-sorry," Bran felt a fool for getting lost within his own thoughts.

"You must be mindful of yourself. This is important information, and much is expected of you as acting Lord of Winterfell." Maester Luwin scolded him. "Now, tell me, who is the Lord of the Dreadfort?"

Bran thought for a moment. "I remember father saying something about him . . . I think he's called Roose . . . Roose Bolton."

"Very good. Now, what are the words of House Bolton?"

"Our Blades Are Sharp?" Bran asked, somewhat unsure of his answer. The saying soon reminded him of the House's gruesome banner, of which he'd seen a few times before. "And their banner is the flayed man." He stated, more confident of his answer this time.

"Very good Bran."

 _Fly bran, fly or die_. The voice of the crow cawed in the back of his head. _They can only be held off for so long_. Shaking his head once more, Bran put the voice from his mind. He felt tired despite the earliness of the day.

"That will be enough for today Bran," Maester Luwin rose from his chair. "I must speak to Ser Rodrik on several matters. You ought to spend some time with the other children, it will do you some good."

Bran frowned. "I still don't like them." He said referring to the two Walders.

"Need I keep reminding you that your brother will soon be tied to House Frey through marriage. They will soon be your family, best you learn to tolerate them now." Luwin tapped Bran on the shoulder. "I'll permit you to take Summer with you but should the beast harm any of the other children I'll not let it out of the kennel again."

Bran felt glad as he called Hodor into the room. The tall lumbering man came through and looked down on him with a wide smile. "Hodor?"

"Take me to the Kennel, and then to the godswood. I want to sit with Summer for a while."

"Hodor." The stableboy said as he reached down and lifted Bran from his chair as if he were no more than a feather. For how strong he was, Bran had always been surprised at how gentle Hodor was with him. Bran had never felt afraid of him nor his strength.

Hodor quickly took Bran from the maester's study and down into the kennel. On his word, the kennelmaster let Summer out of his pen. Almost as soon as the gate had been opened the direwolf was at Hodor's side. The stableboy had been nervous around the wolf at once, but now he'd grown used to Bran's wolf being near. Summer seemed to be fond of Hodor, Bran supposed it was because the giant man had practically become Bran's legs after his fall.

Arriving at the godswood, Hodor sat Bran in a patch of grass in view of the heart tree. Bran felt quite a bit better in the shadow of the old gods, especially with Summer laying by his side.

"Hodor." The man smiled.

"Thank you Hodor, I'll call for you when I'm done." Bran offered the towering giant of a man a soft smile.

"Hodor," Hodor replied before lumbering off.

Laying in the grass, Bran looked to the sky as he gently stroked Summer's fur. He felt calm, as he closed his eyes. Breathing in deep, Bran felt tired once more as the cool Northern air blew over him, and the warmth of his direwolf soothed him. Taking in a deep breath Bran felt himself slip into a dream. _Fly Bran, fly or die._ The voice cawed once more as he fell into a gentle sleep.

* * *

 _ **Thanks for all the support with the first chapter. Really quickly I'm going to reply to some reviews, which if my favorite part, so feel free to give me your feedback.**_

jean d'arc -

"And I'm happy you will focus more on the war and not so much on the white walkers and the Others."

 _ **White Walkers is just another name for the Others, I assume you meant**_ ** _wights_** _ **. Regardless, I will still have Others and**_ ** _wights in the story, they will just be a little more grumpy about getting out of bed so to speak, but eventually, they will show up, just a lot later than they do in the books and TV show._**

 _"There is only one punishment for deserters: beheading. For other crimes, the ruling authority (King, Warden, Lord) can choose between execution, prison, banishment, sending the criminal to the Wall, etc. But for deserters of the Night Watch, there is only one fate. NOT that I want for Robb to execute Jon, but he really has no other choice. Just like he shouldn't have executed Karstark in canon, in this case Robb had to execute Jon. Otherwise he's showing weakness and favoritism (like he did in canon when he killed Karstark but imprisoned his mother for similar crimes)."_

 ** _Robb is indeed showing favoritism to Jon here, however, there is a precedent for a King to be able to pardon a member of the Watch of his vows. In canon, this was Robb's plan for naming Jon his heir after he though Bran and Rickon dead, if he were to die Jon would both be pardoned and legitimised as a Stark and King in the North by order of Robb's will. Not to say using his kingly progative here makes any of the Northern lords happy._**

Krogan(Guest) -

"As for Catelyn talking about justice and fairness I'm calling bullshit. That miserable old bat doesn't give a rats furry ass about it, she just wants to force Robb to kill him."

 _ **Catelyn certainly doesn't care about Jon, and in fact, you could argue that her reasons for telling Robb to have Jon beheaded are more based around her dislike of Jon for being Ned's bastard. However, Catelyn isn't wrong about his men not taking well to his decision, in her eyes, she wants Jon dead for more personal reasons and Robb carrying out the law of the North keeps many of his lords happy.**_

XBolt51(Guest) -

"Although, I can only imagine Catelyn feeling gleeful about the situation, seeing Jon being "rightfully punished" for the transgression."

 _ **Catelyn probably won't take the news well. In her eyes, the "rightfull punishement" would have been death by beheading. She'd argue that letting Jon live is detremental to his posstion as a just king.**_

 _ **Well that's it for now. I'll try to get another chapter out as soon as I can. After the next chapter I might work on the next chapter for The White Dragon, but we'll see.**_

 _ **Thanks,**_

 ** _-AA_**


	3. Chapter Three

**DISCLAIMER:**

 **A Song of Ice and Fire, along with all its content and characters, is the property of George R.R. Martin and licensed by HBO. Please support the original material.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three:**

 **JON**

It was a cold wet night as men flowed through camp. Jon found himself huddled around a fire with the several other Northmen. They had left Riverrun three days ago and were now at the door of the Westerlands. Jon felt alone as he stared into the fire as he spooned the broth of his stew into his aching belly. The march had been long and hard from Riverrun, Robb had commanded they move quickly, Jon suspected his brother was seeking the element of surprise and moving hard and fast would be vital to whatever he'd planned.

For Jon being in the dark had become a point of frustration for him. He knew why his brother couldn't tell him everything, but Jon felt frustrated with just how little he really knew. All he knew was what everyone else in the camp knew, they were taking the fight to the west. It was frustrating how he'd seen nothing of his brother since he'd been flogged, that he understood, but the isolation had begun to cut deep. _When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives._ Jon remembered his father often told them. It was one of many things his lord father had told them.

 _Winter is coming_ , Jon thought to himself.

Glancing off to the woods, Jon wished Ghost would return from his hunt, though his absence made the men about him calmer. "That's a beast, not some war dog! Thing should be put down before it rips an arm off some poor fucker!" Jon wanted to curse them, but the men of the Watch had acted much the same before they'd grown to know Ghost, but even then some had resented the presence of his companion.

"Snow," One of the men said. Looking up from his meal, Jon saw three Stark bannermen huddled together, he saw it was a soldier from the neck called Yoric. "We was wondering what His Grace is like? What you havin' grown up with him and all."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "You want to know about Robb? What for?"

"Well, he's the Robb Stark, the Young Wolf! He beat Ser Jamie Lannister in single combat!" The man to his left replied Jon remembered hearing that his name was Prim.

"He didn't beat Lannister in single combat, you dunce." The third man who Jon couldn't place said as he smacked Prim on the back of the head.

"Ow! What was that for you?!" Prim cried out.

"For being a blockhead. King Robb captured the Kingslayer, but he never fought him."

"That's right! Heard the Kingslayer was too busy shitting his britches to fight!" Yoric laughed. "Would have loved to seen that me-self!"

"His Grace," The unnamed man reminded Yoric.

"Right, right!" Yoric said as he looked back to Jon. "So, tell us about King Robb, will you?"

Jon shrugged. "What is it you want to know about him exactly?"

"What was it like being around him?"

Jon chuckled. It was such a simple question, and yet it felt so hard for him to explain it to the men in words. "It was . . . frustrating. Robb was always better than me, at everything. I was always jealous of him, the way our father looked at him, I'd always wanted that. He's always been better at everything than me. _Fighting, hunting, and riding._ _The girls, gods the girls love him. Part of me wanted to hate him for it, but I never could." Part of me wants to hate him now, but I can't_ , Jon thought. "He's a good man, better than me."

The men nodded. "Well shit," Prim said, "You sound gloomier than a eunuch in a brothel."

"It was the part about the girl's that got me. Could you imagine how hard it must be, King Robb, getting all the tight highborn girls while you'd have to pay to have some loose tavern slut half your gold just to have her suck your cock? Gods, I'd be jealous too if I was you, Snow!" Yoric let out a hearty laugh. "Somebody go and fetch us some mead, Snow ought to have a drink after all that!"

Jon tried to refuse the men, but the three soldiers began to insist. Soon a few men brought over a small barrel that they shared. A few more men gathered around as they drank. There was only a little for them, and not nearly enough to get any of them drunk, Jon thought it smart that Robb's generals had kept large quantities of mead and wine from the men. Jon supposed it would have been a stupid way to die, half-drunk and stumbling about as your enemy attacked you in the night. Though Jon thought that perhaps it wasn't all that bad seeing as how Robert had become king. The bastard of Winterfell still recalled seeing the man stumbling around drunkenly at the feast in Winterfell, despite he himself having been quite sloppy that night.

Jon felt better as he sat with the men, any who passed him by gave him looks of distrust, the those who he sat and talked with gave him common courtesies. Upon finishing his meal, the bastard of Winterfell found his way to his tent. Pulling off his boots Jon began to strip down to his breeches. The air was cool that night so Jon had elected to remain in his shirt and pants as he claimed into his bedroll.

Aided by the small amount of mead in his gut Jon found that sleep was quick to find him. As he fell into the embrace of the night, Jon felt himself slip into a dream of his direwolf, Ghost. The world shifted as Jon dreamed he was his wolf, his senses seemed to become twice as keen as he prowled through the night. While his sight was more focused it was the aroma of smells that hit him the hardest. The sent of the camp, the cooking fires and the dirty musk of men smacked him like a thick wave.

Jon saw through Ghost's eyes as the direwolf ran through the brush and through the thicket of the woods. He watched as the wolf followed a thin path until Ghost had bound out from a clearing at the base of a mountain. Jon thought he recognized it. mountains had begun to become more common as they'd slipped into the Westerlands.

Jon saw the path lead up into the mountains, it was off the beaten path, thin but crossable. Jon then felt a smell in the air, it was thick and pulled at something primal within him. It took Jon a moment to place the smell before he finally recognized it to be blood. Jon watched as Ghost slipped up the path higher up the mountain until at least he saw a shadow in the dark.

There was a something large prowled over a broken body of sorts. It took Jon a moment to realize it was a Goat he was seeing. The creature looked up from the dead animal and gazed at him. The yellow eyes of the creature peered through him as Ghost gazed back with his own crimson eyes. _Grey Wind,_ he recognized.

The two met together, smelling one another, and Jon felt a connection with the other creature, it was more than him looking into the eyes of the other wolf. Jon thought then of Robb. Together the two wolves let out a loud howl that cut through the night as the brothers stood side by side.

Bolting up from his bedroll Jon awoke to the sound of a faint cry in the distance. Looking toward the sound, Jon felt a shiver run through him. _It was only a dream,_ Jon reasoned with himself. Yet still, he couldn't bring himself to return to sleep. Rising from his makeshift bed, Jon pulled on his boots and fashioned his black moleskin scabbard to his hip.

Leaving his tent, Jon slipped from the camp to where his horse was. He had left the mount tired to a tree near the edge of the camp where several men stood guard. Passing them by Jon untied his horse and pulled himself atop the steed.

"Pardon m'lord, but you where are you headed?" One of the two guards asked as he approached Jon.

"To find my wolf, he's been gone too long for comfort," Jon said dully. The man seemed to question his reply for a moment before a distant howl of Ghost and Grey Wind cut through the night. "I will return soon enough," Jon told him before sending his horse into a trot down a thin path.

Jon mirrored the direction his dream had, the path he took was no different than the dream he'd had. It unnerved him greatly as he passed through the thick brush. Eventually, he came to the thin mountain path that Ghost had come to. Slowly taking his horse up the goat path, Jon caught the scent of blood and gore in the air. Following the stench, Jon saw two figures crouched together. His horse wailed anxiously as fear seemed to grip the beast. Jon put out his hand and stroked his horse as he tried to sooth it.

Slipping from his saddle, Jon slowly approached the figures his hand near his blade in case he'd been wrong. His fears where quickly dispelled as one of the figures came to him.

Ghost came to him, silent as his name, his friend sat at his heel. The direwolf was coated red with the blood of his meal, though Jon had been accustoming to this. He had taught Ghost that he was to keep his white coat clean, and the wolf, in turn, had always found a way to wash his fur clean after he'd finished a hunt. Going to a knee, Jon placed his hand on Ghost's head as he ruffled the creature's thick white fur. Ghost, in turn, gave Jon a tentative lick to his chin.

"I had a dream about you," Jon said with a frown, "But dreams are just supposed to be just that, _dreams_."

Jon looked out of the corner of his eye as Grey Wind came close to him. "At least you two are getting along," Jon said to Grey Wind. "I can't seem to get an audience with my brother anymore, I'm no use to him it seems."

Grey Wind nudged him before the wolf looked to the west further up the mountain. Standing Jon could see the shape of the mountain in the light of the moon. It then occurred to him that the path might take them beyond the Golden Tooth. Jon knew that Robb needed either take the castle or to slip beyond it into the west. Realizing his fortune, Jon leaped to his feet and found his horse. Turning the beast Jon started back down the mountain, with Ghost along with Grey Wind following him closely behind.

Returning to the camp, Jon made his way to the center of the city of tents to where the largest of them were erected. There he found a large tent of Stark Green with two guards in plate armor standing at the palace of a tent's entrance. Hailing the men Jon approached, they instinctively reached for their blades.

"I seek an audience with my brother," Jon declared. "I have information of great importance for his Grace."

The two men looked at one another before the man on his left, the shorter of the two, replied. "His Grace is resting Snow. When he wakes we will be sure to tell him that you'd come seeking his audience."

"I would not come if it were not important," Jon stated, "I would speak with him at his earliest connivance."

"You'll speak to him when his Grace wants to be spoken to, bastard." The man spat. "Now be on your way before I decided to send you away."

Jon felt like protesting further before a low unearthly growl came from behind him. The guard looked beyond Jon as his face seemed to drain slightly. Turning, Jon saw that Grey Wind stood at his side, bearing its teeth at the man.

"I don't think he liked that." Looking back Jon saw Robb holding open the flap of his tent, still dressed in the green tunic Jon assumed he'd been sleeping in.

"Y-your Grace," The guard said, "I assumed you'd not want to be . . ."

"When my brother has urgent need of me you are to wake me," Robb said sharply. With a whistle, Grey Wind calmed himself and strode past the two-man and slipped into Robb's tent. "Let him in and then take your leave, I'd have my guard changed."

Bowing the two men stepped aside. Following his brother into the tent, Jon looked around. It seemed larger to Jon on the inside that as the ground was covered with soft pelts and thick rugs. There was a long table at with a quill and paper, alongside several maps and wooden pieces denoting both the Starks and the Lannister forces. Walking to the center of the tent Jon looked into the large brazier that illuminated the whole of the tent.

Grey Wind sat at the foot of his brother's cot, his yellow eyes looked upon him as he stood before Robb. There was a moment of silence as Jon watched as Robb looked him up and down. It occurred to Jon just how much his brother had really changed since he had left Winterfell. He'd not taken much note of the changes at Riverrun, he'd more concerned about what might happen to him then he had been about Robb's appearance, but now he took a long look at him. His brother had let his auburn hair grow out into a mess of locks and his once stubble of hairs on his face has grown into a beard. Jon thought he looked older, much older. Jon knew they were only a few months apart from one another, but Robb was taller and seemed more imposing to Jon. He was a king, after all, it was appropriate that Jon should need to look up at him.

"What is it that's so urgent that you had need of me in the middle of the night?" Robb demanded of him.

Jon thought what he might say. _Should I tell him about the dream? How I found the path through the eyes of Ghost? Would he think I've lost my mind?_ Jon quickly decided against mentioning anything about dreams if he could help it. "I'd grown restless in the night, so I went to find Ghost," Jon said, "Upon following the sound of his howls I found a path that led me into the mountains. There I found Ghost and Grey Wind feasting upon a goat."

"Our wolves having dinner is why you woke me in the night?" Robb narrowed his eyes.

"No, I think that we might be able to take this path around the Golden Tooth. We could avoid a fight and slip into the Westerlands unchallenged." Jon explained.

Robb scratched his chin as he paced the room. "I've known about the trail for two nights Jon."

Surprised Jon felt taken aback. _He already knew?_ At that moment Jon felt a fool. There was no reason for him to be there then if Robb had already known, all he'd done was make himself look like an idiot waking his brother in the night.

"Sorry for waking you then, Your Grace." Jon apologies. "In that case, I will take my leave."

Jon bowed and looked to turn. "No, stay," Robb commanded, and so Jon did as he was bid. "How do you think I found out about the mountain path Jon?"

"The scouts I presume."

Robb looked at him for a long moment. Grey Wind stood slowly from as the great wolf slipped beside Robb, the king placing his hand upon his companion's head. "Tell me, how did you really find the path. The truth." Robb seemed to Jon to be genuinely curious. Jon wondered why his brother might suspect his explanation to be false, then he recalled his dream when he'd looked into the eyes of Grey Wind and the connection, he'd in it.

Jon took a long moment to look at Grey Wind before responding. "I had a dream of sorts." He, at last, confessed. "I saw Ghost lead me to into the mountains where he found Grey Wind. When I woke, I could hear both howling in the night. I decided to follow the path I'd seen which lead me to both our wolves."

Robb nodded. Jon watched as his brother thought about what Jon had told him. "I've had similar dreams, sometimes even when I'm awake. I saw this path too. I also saw Ghost tonight, but not through my own eyes." The revelation shocked Jon. So, it seemed that he really had seen something within Grey Wind in his dream.

Jon didn't know what to say to that. Jon had heard the story of skinchangers, legends of wargs. There were stories from the Age of Heroes of the Warg King who was defeated by the Stark Kings of Winter. The ancient Starks had beasts slaughtered along with his sons. Those stories also said that the Starks had taken his daughters. Jon had always thought the tales of skinchangers to just be stories that Old Nan would weave, myth and legend like that of the Others and the giants of the north. Jon found the notion that it might be possible that he, no, Robb and he might possess the powers of those from Nan's stories. Jon felt a shiver run down his spine as he wondered if skinchangers, where real what else, might be.

"Those are just dreams though . . . right?" Jon said though he wasn't so sure anymore.

Robb looked down at Grey Wind as he replied. "I'm not so sure, but both of us are having these . . . _wolf dreams_ of late. I find it hard to consider them a coincidence."

"If we really are . . . skinchangers," The word seemed observed to Jon even as he spoke it, "We must keep it amongst ourselves." Jon knew well enough the history of people who possessed the ability where treated. Suspicion and mistrust were often passed on anyone who held such unnatural abilities. Mostly this stemmed from the tales waived by about them, rarely where such stories flattering for those possessing such an ability.

Robb nodded in agreement. "You're the only I've spoken to on this matter."

Jon felt a tinge of pride hearing that. It had been so long since Robb had confided in him in any matter. Jon couldn't help but grin at the thought.

"What is it?" Robb said with a raised brow.

"Nothing. I've just missed talking. Last time I spent time with you my back was being flayed." Jon felt childish. His brother was a king, and he was a man, or at least he'd told himself he was ever since he'd joined the Watch. He wondered if abandoning his vows had stripped him of that title, he was no longer a man of the Nights Watch, he was just both a bastard and oathbreaker, he deserved nothing from his brother, the Lord of Winterfell, King in the North and of the Trident. Robb would have songs written about him, stories told across the Seven Kingdoms, Jon would be lucky to be a footnote in of a maester's writings in the Citadel.

There was a long silence as Robb stood with Jon. Grey Wind sat quietly at his master's heel, watching them as if he were some common dog and not a fearsome direwolf. Robb seemed to be considering Jon for a long moment before he replied. "You're my brother Jon. Our father's son and you've pledged yourself to me. If I could I would have you in my council, but I cannot less I incur the wrath of the Northern lords."

"I understand."

"No, you don't. Not yet anyway." Robb let out a tired sigh before Jon watched his brother retreat to this cot where he slumped down. "When next we fight, you'll be in the van. But more than that, I want you to lead men, twenty mounted veterans of the Whispering Wood."

He was taken aback by this. Jon had always known how to fight, Ser Rodrik had seen to that, but leading men was something new entirely. Jon had read about battles and strategy in books and listened to his father speak of war many times, but to actually lead men into battle, no matter how few, would be a new experience. "I'm honored, Your Grace." Jon dropped to a knee.

"When it's just us I'm just Robb, I grow tired of being called _Your Grace_ all the fucking time." Robb shook his head. "I grow tired Jon if that is all."

"I'll take my leave then." Jon nodded as he turned to leave.

"Oh, one more thing Jon," looking back Jon watched as Grey Wind curled up at the foot of Robb's cot. "If anyone asks, you found that passage." Robb smiled.

It occurred then to Jon what his brother had to mean when he'd declared that he'd not understood, _yet_. Robb's actions were to bring his status up, remove the stain of his folly for abandoning the Watch. The very least he could do was to fulfill the expectations his brother was setting for him. Jon couldn't help but chuckle. "As you say, Robb."

* * *

 **SAMWELL**

The winds of the North stung, they had since the day he'd arrived, though they'd seemed to sting a little less when Jon had been there to help him through it all. Sam had been all too aware that he'd have most likely been beaten to death in the yard, or perhaps smothered in his sleep without Jon. Now that he was gone, everything seemed colder, and the wind stung as it once had, perhaps even worse now.

It had been weeks since Jon had taken his midnight ride, Sam still recalled waking up the next morning. There had been a great commotion at Castle Black as riders had been let loose on the North, Sam had been given the dreadful task of delivering a letter from Lord Commander Mormont, and then upon that he'd been forced to copy the letter over and over so that Maester Aemon's raven could carry the horrible things to nearly every hold and castle in the North.

 _I, Jeor Mormont, 998th Lord Commander of the Order of the Night's Watch, hereby declare Jon Snow of Winterfell a deserter of the Night's Watch and demand the justice of the Realm be carried out upon him for the crime of oathbreaking and desertion._

Sam had wept as he penned each letter, but he penned them all the same. He'd watched the ravens fly away and had prayed a silent prayer to the old gods, the gods of Jon Snow, that his former brother would make it safely to his brother. Everyone at the Wall knew where Jon was headed, everyone expected he'd be caught or killed before he reached the neck. But days passed and soon weeks before a raven had returned with news of Jon. Samwell had been the first to read it aloud to Maester Aemon, the word of _King_ Robb Stark, the pardon of Jon. He'd taken that to Lord Commander Mormont, unable to hold in his joy as a smile was fixed upon his lips.

The Old Bear read the letter before he tossed it into the fire that warmed his solar before he watched it burn. "A boy, a foolish boy _King_." Mormont cursed. "If he was smart, he'd of either sent him back to me or taken his head. He's fighting a war and he spits in the face of the Watch and the honor of his House. Love is a foolish thing Tarly, don't forget that. It gets men killed, and it can cripple kings and their kingdoms if it doesn't kill them as well."

Mormont wasn't the first or the last to curse Jon. It seemed that the whole Watch was pissing on his name, even Grenn, Pyp and Edd had begun to speak ill of Jon. Sam felt alone he thought that perhaps he was the only one who missed his friend, the only one who wished he was here, and not so he could kill him as Mormont had ordered.

Sighing, Samwell found himself wandering into the hall where most of his brother were already digging into a thick broth that was being served for lunch. Getting a wooden bowl, he was given a portion before finding a place on a bench across for Grenn.

"Where've you been all day?" Grenn rose an eyebrow at him.

"Helping Maester Aemon with some old ledgers and tomes. Did you know that a bill of sale was written by the three-hundred and fifth Lord Commander to someone in the town for seven barrels of ale and one bushel of barley?"

"Why the fuck would I care about what some long dead fucker bought who knows when Sam?"

"Well, I care. You know you can learn quite a bit from those old lists. Maester Aemon says- "

"No one cares Ser Piggy," Sam turned as Pyp sat beside him with his bowl in hand. "Gods this stew is fowl. Nothing but onions and potato."

"It's not bad, you're just being an idiot." Grenn shook his head.

"Well, it certainly isn't good either. What do you think Sam?"

Sam looked down at his bowl before taking a sip. He quickly found it to be abundant with salt, far too much in his option. "It's not great." He shrugged. "But it's not bad either."

Grenn rolled his eyes. "Not great, not bad, you're not saying, much are you?"

"I-It's fine, okay . . . I guess?" Sam felt himself stumbling on his own words.

"Gods Sam, you really are helpless, you know that?" Pyp laughed. "Well take mine if it's, _fine, I guess._ " Pyp mimicked him somewhat as he pushed the stew in front of him.

Thanking him Sam quickly finished the two bowls before looking up just in time to see the door to the hall open as Ser Alliser strode into the room. He too found a bowl and filled it with the fine stew before he scanned the room. In a vain attempt, Sam tried to make himself small, his eyes looking away from the master-at-arms as he hoped the foul man would leave him in peace. He, of course, did not.

"If it isn't the Tarly back from his books," Alliser called to him. "Lord Snow's public defender, what a sight it is to see you after so long." A few men in the room chuckled at him. Samwell desired nothing more than to shrink down within himself like as turtle might. "Worthless bastard fighting a traitors war against another traitor." Ser Alliser chuckled to himself as he passed him. "Join us in the yard some time Ser Piggy, it'll do you some good to trim off a layer of that lard and the rest of us might enjoy a proper feast after."

Sam dipped his head. _I wish he'd not left me here. Grenn, Pyp, and Edd are good true friends, but they aren't like Jon was._ Sam kept to Pyp's stew, he felt the hot meal helped keep his mind off Alliser and the like.

After supper, Samwell had returned to the depths of castle black while Pyp and Grenn had gone to find Edd in the yard. Sitting, Sam sat himself across from the old maester who was looking aimlessly forward. Sometimes Sam wondered what it must have been like to be blind, living constantly in the dark. He imagined it was terrifying, but Aemon had never seemed scared. Samwell didn't know what he might do should he lose the use of his eyes, reading was one of the only things he'd ever really been good at, well that and eating, but he knew that without books he'd be even more useless than he was now. Aemon, however, was different. The old maester was _like_ a book. The knowledge stored between the old man's ears was far more vast than any manuscript Sam could ever help to spend his hours poring over.

 _To get a glimpse at the pages of his mind, I'd give up all the over salted stew in the world for that!_ Samwell couldn't help but smirk at the thought.

"Tarly," Maester Aemon said dryly as his eyes looked in his direction though they seemed to look through him rather than at him. "I've been waiting here for quite some time for you."

"Apologies maester, just got hungry was all." Sam had felt that way more often nowadays.

"I fear it's not the stomach that hungers in your case, but rather your heart." The maester sighed. "You miss Jon Snow, one of the few men at castle black who truly do."

"I-I do maester," Sam confessed. "It's just . . . harder here without him, you know?"

"Service to the Watch is never easy Samwell, we serve as best we can. Our brothers leave us all eventually, by the sword, sickness, or other means. But we do what is asked of us. Jon Snow had a tough choice before him, the family he gave a vow to, or the one who he was raised alongside. Every man's vows are tested, some by flesh, some the desire for freedom, and others for love. Jon Snow loved his family dearly, and he failed his test in the end." Master Aemon seemed sad to declare Jon a failure in his vows. "I do not think you friend abandon his vows for flesh nor freedom, but he loved his family too much. The death of his father might have been too much for many to bear. Had I been younger when . . . when my kin were slain, I might have been as reckless. But like an oak, age makes a man's roots to a place deep and thick, and he finds it hard to leave after a while."

"Maester, I wonder . . . Do you think we'll ever see Jon again? I know his brother pardoned him and all, but there's always a chance, isn't there?"

"I fear that if we ever see Jon Snow again, it will not be a joyous reunion. Stranger things have happened before Tarly. But remember yourself and remember that soon winter will be upon us, and only the strong of us will last this winter I fear."

"I'm not strong, at least not like the others," Sam confessed. He was never shy about being a craven, it was true, anyone could see that, he'd ever seen the point in lying about the obvious.

"Strength is an odd thing, it is more than muscle and blood. I am old, blind and feeble, and yet I've lived longer than conquers and great warriors, I'm nor braver nor stronger than them as most men might say, but the strength of the mind is more valuable than all the iron in the seven kingdoms if you can put it to good use. Remember that Tarly."

"I'll try maester."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I really hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! Took me a while to get it right, still might go back and do a lot of edits to the grammar and what not, but it's been burning a hole in my pocket and I just wanted to get it out to you guys! Hope you enjoyed this, and if you have any questions or comments I'd love to hear them.**

 **Real quick Q and A session here.**

jean d'arc-

So, will Bran still become the Three-eyed-raven?

 **He'll definitely deal a lot with the Three-eyed-raven, however, it won't be the same as the books (due to the nature of the Other's invasion being "delayed").**

ATP(Guest)- But what would you do now? Jon could not stop Ironborn,but helping Robb,for example if he marry Westerling girl instead of him is plausible.

 **Jon doesn't have any magic power, the question of can one man change the course of history? Yes and no. A lot of the power to change things comes down to how Robb's actions are changed by Jon being there. If Jon is simply used as a soldier, nothing would change, so Jon will certainly have an effect on the overall story as it affects the War of the Five Kings. What the effect it will have to be seen.**

TMI Fairy-

When did Jon bolt?

 **Jon "bolted" after news of his father's beheaded reached the wall. Specifically, the exact same night when in the books his friends reminded him of his vows and took him home. In this version that never happened and so Jon went south.**

I take it that no Longclaw here?

 **Jon never received Longclaw from Mormont, mainly due to him never saving Mormont from the wights as they never appeared in this version (due to the fact that the Other's aren't as active yet, save for killing a few brothers in the prolog of the AGOT as the beheading chapter still exists here). So no, Jon doesn't have Longclaw, sadly. Wish I could have added it, but even if Mormont had given it to him he would have left it behind as he planned to in canon.**

Dark Serpent Cat-

Also, any chance that Jon will end up fighting Gregor Clegane?

 **It's not impossible that such an encounter could happen. Both are fighting in the same war and all, but I'd probably say it's unlikely you see that. Jon fighting the Mountain in battle isn't a good thing for him, especially as green as he is. At this point, Jon has zero real combat experience in war and the Mountain would rip him in half if they fought. But I'm not ruling it out, but if he does happen it won't be until later in the story.**

keller blair1-

So what kind of Armor and banner will Jon have just curious

 **Plate armor to be sure, this is war and Jon while not well like among the lords, is still Robb's brother, but he'd certainly be kitted with some kind of plate armor. As for his banner, he's a bastard and has no coat of arms to call his own, he is, however, blood to the Kind, so he'd be flying the king's standard of the Direwolf of Winterfell. Not really saying that he's a Stark, but rather that he's OF Winterfell.**

 **Thanks again for the reviews! I'll post as soon as I can. After this next chapter, I'm going to work on "The White Dragon" for one chapter before returning back to this project. Thanks!**

 **-AA**


	4. Chapter Four

**DISCLAIMER:**

 **A Song of Ice and Fire, along with all its content and characters, is the property of George R.R. Martin and licensed by HBO. Please support the original material.**

* * *

 **Chapter Four:**

 **JON**

There was a light mist in the air as Jon knelt in the underbrush, his hands slick with sweat as he stood on the edge of a waiting battle. Looking around him, Jon saw a few of the men around him with steeled looks, they were the veterans of the Whispering Wood and of the Battle of the Camps. He was with a mix of Glover, Umber, and Karstark men who made up the vanguard of Robb's right flank.

Looking out past the tree line, Jon could just make out the vast city of tents sprawled out before him through the thick fog that had settled over the encampment. The fires of Lannister soldiers doted the landscape as the soft mummer of men talking in the night and the whines of warhorses filled the air.

There was a crack of thunder somewhere off in the distance as Jon wondered if the weather might turn poor, but the battle wouldn't wait if it did. He wondered if he might be tossed into a mud, how he would fair in his first battle. A thought crossed his mind, that tonight he would kill his first man, and perhaps more. Some men relished in the idea of wetting their blade, it only made Jon more anxious, at the uncertainty, and while he didn't doubt his ability to do so, he questioned how easy, or hard, it would be to take that first life.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder Jon turned to see a man of House Glover over his shoulder. He was a thin man with a gruff leathery face that held a long scar across his left eye, which was now nothing but a socket. "We're moving soon, oathbreaker," The man said in a hushed tone. "Where's your beast off to, I'd feel better if it were here to rip out a few Lannister throats for us."

"I left him with his brother. He and Grey Wind will be alongside Robb in the carvery charge."

"So long as he's ripping into them and not us, I suppose."

 _AWOOOOOOOOO_

Looking back into the woods, Jon heard the howl break through the night air. Pulling his sword Jon looked forward. It was the signal that Robb had assigned for his plan to begin. Jon watched as a small number of men slipped from the forest and moved quietly along the tree line where the Lannister army had tied their horses, each man cutting the lines one by one, setting the horse free from the trees.

There was a long pause before the men took up their places back in the ranks. Gripping his longsword Jon thought his blade felt awkward opposed to that of Longclaw. He'd only had the sword for a short time, but somehow it had felt natural in his hand whereas the steal he carried now felt like something Ser Rodrik would have trained him with.

 _AWOOOOOOOOO_

Somewhere near the center of the forest Grey Wind, or perhaps it was Ghost, howled for a second time before a loud chorus of war horns blasted followed by a cry throughout the woods that fanned out to around Jon who joined in the cries of "The King in the North!"

Striking alongside the gruff Glover man, Jon charged out of the woods. Watching, Jon saw the horses panic as they thundered toward the camp. Spooked, the beasts bolted away from their horde of men, sending them right into the Lannister camp. Running stride for stride with the rest of the van, Jon watched as the Lannister's own horses topped tents and rappelled men in their craze adding to the chaos and confusion as their line slammed into the unsuspecting army.

Racing forward Jon watched as the first few Westmen fumbled at their belts before they were cut down. Blood splattered all around as Jon quickly found himself rushing into the city of tents as Lannister men poured out from their tents, most dying before they could pull even give a half-hearted swing of their swords.

Looking to his left, Jon spotted a man dressed in naught, but his small clothes come rushing toward him with an ax raised above his head. Without thinking, Jon swung his sword, and in an instant, he watched as the man cried out in pain, his hands flying to his gut as his insides spilled out. The shock of seeing such a thing washed over him as the realization that he'd done the man in hit him.

 _This isn't a battle, this is a slaughter_ , Jon thought as the screams of battle raged around him.

Though the feeling was gone nearly as quickly as it had come as more men had found their senses and weapons and had come charging at the Stark line. Quickly, Jon moved from clash to clash as he and the rest of the vanguard pushed through the Lannister camp. The battle seemed to blur together, as Jon slew his second and then third man before soon he'd lost count of the number he'd carved out. By this time the storm had reached the battle as the skies opened, lightning cracked as a wave after wave of rain fell upon them, turning the dirt to mud and washed off the blood and gore as quickly as Jon created it.

Somewhere in the campfire had caught and had begun to spread through, burning a good number of tents as Jon caught a glimpse of a man running out of one engulfed in an orange blaze. Opening an assailant's throat, Jon found that he had been separated from the rest of his men. Jon had remembered seeing Leatherface falling to the dirt after a man caught him in the neck with an ax.

Wiping his head around Jon saw that he had three men upon him. Quickly, Jon moved to engage the first, parrying his clumsy blow to the side before slitting open his neck. The other two rushed him from behind, but Jon was able to sidestep the blow of the first man's sword before he had started to engage the second man. There was a quick flash of swords and Jon spared with the man for a moment before the hilt of his blade found the man's nose, breaking it on contact. Jon Drove his foot into the man's balls before driving his sword down into his chest. Struggling with the blade, Jon found it had lodged itself into the man, and thinking of his surroundings Jon looked to his rear in time to see the last man raising his sword to cut him down.

Wide-eyed Jon tried to stagger to the side, but he knew it was far too late to avoid the blow. Just as the swing was falling toward him, a blur of white was upon the man. With a vicious growl and a bloody gargle, the man lay bleeding to death, his throat eviscerated by Ghost's razor-sharp fangs. Looking at his companion, Jon gave him a nod, but Ghost only returned a steely stare before his wolf burst rushed onto the next Lannister.

Reaching to the mud, Jon found a discarded sword, and upon reaching it, the battle was upon him once more. Running deeper into the center of the camp, Jon found Lannister's dying as a melee lead by Lord Rickard Karstark. Jon noted that the opposing Lannister's where rallying behind the leadership of their own commander who was at the rear of the battle, from what Jon knew he assumed the man to be Stafford Lannister. Running in, Jon joined with the battle, taking the place of a fallen Northman, Jon began to cut through the line.

"I want that Lannister," Jon could hear Lord Karstark shouting off to his left, "His head's mine!"

Falling yet another man, Jon and a few others broke through the line until they came upon the Stafford and his guard. There were five men counting Ser Stafford, all armed with sword and shield. Jon alongside three other men, one who was Lord Karstark, armed with a lance, engaged the men head-on. Jon was quick, slipping around the defense of the first man that approached him, stabbing the man in his left armpit, his blade driving up into the man's lungs. Pulling away, Jon helped a man bearing the sigil of House Glover fall his own man. The other Northman alongside Lord Karstark had been slain, but the Lord of Karhold had driven his lance through a last remaining Lannister Guard.

Jon watched as Ser Stafford came toward him. The Glover man stepped forward by swung high at Stafford's head and was repaid with a swift cut across his face. Engaging the man, Jon spared with him. Indeed, he was far better than anyone whom Jon had dealt slain in the battle, but not so good that he pressed him. It was a short bout, and before Jon knew it, he found his blade impaling Ser Stafford through his belly. Jon looked at him in his green eyes as they seemed to move far off as they glazed over. Removing his sword from the man's chest Jon watched as he fell to the mud, his golden hair turned brown from the muck.

"He was mine!" Turning Jon watched as a red-faced Lord Karstark came upon him. "He was mine to kill, oathbreaker!" The man spat into the mud.

"He engaged me, what was I to do!" Jon replied hotly.

"He was MINE. All the bloody Lannister's are mine!" Karstark shouted, and as if to prove his point he turned and spotted a feeling Lannister soldier and ran at him, thrusting his spear through the man's heart as he drove his body up into the air before tossing both he and his weapon aside. "No bastard will keep me from my vengeance." He declared before looking to the rest of his command, who had finished the last of the Lannister's in the immediate vicinity. "Follow me, we're looking for that cunt Ser Daven, I swear I'll kill at least one lion tonight!" Turning back to Jon the lord looked at him with a cold gaze. "Go somewhere you're wanted, bastard."

Feeling hot with anger, Jon wanted to reach out and strike the Lord Karstark but thought better of it as he watched the man lead his men toward the edge of the camp. Jon felt anger, but then a sense of shame as he looked around himself, seeing the blood and gore around him, and the dead pooled around himself. Looking down Jon saw the Glover man, laying in the mud, his face a mess of blood that pooled at his cut as he twitched, and for the first time Jon's head cleared of battle, as he heard the cries of the dying, and the song of battle raging, and he thought of all he'd done, all the killing, and he found it left a sour taste in his mouth.

* * *

 **SAMWELL**

The Lord Commander had kept Samwell busy with his raven throughout their ranging. Two-hundred members of the watch had ridden north of the wall and he'd somehow ended up getting stuck with the rest of them. Sam did his best with writing Mormont's letters, sending his raven to castle black, hoping that they'd be back south of the wall before his thick fingers froze off from the old.

It was odd seeing the Lord commander walk around with Long Claw again, Sam had gotten used to the idea of the blade on Jon's hip, and the pommel was still a white wolf's head. Sam supposed the Lord commander had either kept it to remind him of Jon's desertion or hadn't bothered to have it replaced back to that of a bear yet.

Sam sloshed through the mud as he found Grenn huddled next to a smoldering fire. Sam had remembered the hours they had spent trying to get something to light, it wasn't until they'd found some dry sticks underneath a felled tree that they'd been able to get a fire going. Sitting alongside his friend Grenn dipped a ladle into a stew that was boiling over the embers of the fire and poured him a bowl. It was little more than a broth, but Sam's stomach growled at the waft of the hot liquid and his belly was glad at the warmth of it as he took a long drink.

"Edd was telling me that the Lord Commander offered his ax to Craster as a gift so we could stay on his land." Green sniffed before spitting into the mud. "I'd offer him my horse if I could get one or two of his daughters for a night, it's bloody cold, I could use someone to warm my bed."

"Don't let Craster hear you talking like that, man's crazy, I hear a wildling will eat men whole if they run out of food." Looking back over his shoulder Sam watched as Edd sat down across from him. "Plus, they're all inbred. It's rather unnatural don't you think?"

"I mean, some of them seem nice. Just because- because they were born… unnaturally, as Edd puts it, doesn't mean they're bad." Sam interjected.

"Looking to get with some of Craster's wives Tarly?" Green chuckled. "I bet they'd prefer you over that crazy bastard. I've heard some of the others say that he eats his son, that or he's afraid he might have to share his wives, so he chops up any boys he happens to spawn."

"Alright, that's enough of that." Edd declared wrapping himself in his cloak. "Craster's already threated a few of our brothers with that new ax the Lord Commander gave him, says he'd cut off a hand if he caught on one of his 'wives'."

"At least you get to spend some time where it's dry, even if it's with a man like Craster."

During the ranging Edd had taken the role that Jon should have held. Edd had been promoted to acting as the squire for the Old Bear on their great ranging. Truth be told Sam didn't think that Edd much liked the role, but he's not complained much when Mormont had let him sleep under a roof.

"Do you know how long will stay at Craster's?" Sam asked as he set aside his now empty bowl.

"I would guess we'll be off today, tomorrow at the latest. Craster is keen to see us off and Mormont's eager to move on. I don't blame him, despite the dry ground, there isn't much I like about this place."

Samwell remembered the girl, Gilly, one of Craster's wives. She was frightened, she'd told him about how Craster dealt with his son's, and how she feared she carried on in her belly. Sam had wished for more than anything that Jon was there, he supposed if anyone could have helped her it would have been him. But Jon was an oathbreaker and was south fighting his brother's war now, and Sam was left helpless to do anything for her. Despite this he'd promised to help her, he knew not how, but he'd pitied her situation and felt some semblance of, well duty to help her.

"I know what you mean," Sam offered a nervous smile. "That girl, Gilly, I told you about—"

"One of Craster's wives," Edd warned.

"Yes, one of his wives. Well, she told me, what happens to Craster's sons," Sam felt a hitch in his throat. "He- he, apparently, offers them to his gods."

"Offers? Like sacrificing them?" Grenn raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe, whatever he does they don't come back from wherever it is he sends them."

Edd looked at the dirt. "He's a wildling Tarly, they're savages, but like the Old Bear says, Craster is one of the few allies the Watch has north of the wall, it's not something we need concern ourselves with."

"There must be something we can do, it's not right. Maybe if you talked to Mormont—"

"He'd tell you the same thing," Edd barked. "Craster's as wild and vile as the rest of the wildling rabble, and the only law here what Craster decides."

"Well, at least maybe we help at least one of them when we head home. I made Gilly a promise. It'd only have to be as far as the wall."

Grenn rolled his eyes. "Gods Sam, use that big head of yours. Shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

"It was the right thing!"

"Doesn't matter if it was right or wrong, what matters is what's best for the Watch, and the Lord Commander would be furious if we alienate Craster, only one's might be madder than him is the rangers you'd fuck over."

The sound of horses entering camp put an end to their conversation as Sam watch Jarman Buckwell descend from his horse alongside the rest of his scouts, his black cloak dripping wet with mud from his ride. Rising, Edd walked over to the man through the now thawing mud, his boots squishing through the muck.

"No sign of any wildlings on the common paths further north. Path's cleared up enough, the ground's still slick with the mess, but we'll manage. Tell Mormont we should be good to travel on his command." Buckwell declared.

"I'll inform the Lord Commander then. Find any game?"

"A few rabbits, but not enough to share with the rest of the rabble. Besides, you've been enjoying Craster's grub, no reason for you to need any of my boy's hunt."

"Fair enough," Edd said before turning to head toward Craster's. "Don't mention that wildling girl to Mormont when we make ready to leave," Edd warned as he strode past.

"Fine," Sam said sullenly. _I wish it where Jon and not Edd, he'd understand._

* * *

 **ROBB**

The morning air was thick with the smell of rotting bodies as Robb stood over a long oak table in the tavern at Oxcross. The village had been all but burnt to the ground in the battle, but by some miracle, the inn had been spared. What little information was left behind by the now departed Ser Stafford had given them some semblance of information no the Lannister war plans, but Robb gleaned little from the piles of parchment he'd looked at.

Looking around the room, Robb noted the members of his war council as they talked amounts themselves. The Greatjon stood looming near the door of the as Lord Karstak and the Blackfish. "Will Lord Glover be joining us?" Robb asked.

"He's still recovering from his wound, same with Ser Stevron." The Blackfish answered. "Seems the old Frey has taken to a fever."

"If the gods are good, they will be back on the field before we're ready to move." Robb sighed. "What news of the remnants of the Lannister army?"

"Ser Devan Lannister managed to gather some two and a half thousand men in the chaos and is running back to Casterly Rock as we speak. There could be another thousand men who deserted the battle who might make their way back to the Rock as well."

"So, we might assume he has at least some three thousand men at his disposal."

"I doubt Ser Devan will be bold enough to march against us, especially after this defeat. If he's smarter than his father he'll remain behind his walls and wait for Tywin to march west."

"Then we'll split up our forces, raid the west as planned and pillage the Lannister mines."

"Cut off the lions gold and they become nothing more than kittens." The Greatjon boomed. "The only gold we'll leave the Lannister's with will be on their smug heads."

"I'd rather have their heads." Lord Karstark barked. "I lost that cunt Stafford to your bastard brother; I want my payment of Lannister blood."

"That boy was a terror on the field, he killed some twenty men, along with Ser Stafford, you can't fault a warrior for killing a man in a melee." The Blackfish replied. "Another Lannister is dead, at the end of the day what does it matter to you how he died?"

"It was my son they killed, I will be the one to repay the Lannister's until the king allows me to relieve the Kingslayer of his head, I will not rest until his kin are snuffed out."

"Be that as it may, leave Eddard's bastard out of this, he served King Robb well last night."

"So long as he doesn't kill what is mine to kill, I will leave him out of it!"

"Enough!" Robb declared. "I promised you that once we've won this war you will have your justice."

Robb looked over the map, the lines of rivers and creeks and dots of castles and villages. His plan was unfolding, he hoped that they would be able to apply enough pressure to force Tywin to withdraw himself from Harrenhall and push back into the Riverlands where he might put his foe to the sword and draw the war to a swift conclusion.

"What should our course of action be now," The Blackfish asked. "Have we any word from the Greyjoys?"

"None," Robb confirmed. "I've had no word from Theon. Until we know whether the Iron Fleet is behind us, we cannot hope to march on Casterly Rock." There where nods of agreement among the men as Robb studied the map.

"Lord Karstark as soon as Lord Glover is well you and he will take the Karstark and Glover armies and raid every mine and keep you come across on the northern coast. Take whatever you need to supply your armies and plunder every mine you come across. From there all the valuables you capture will be colleceted back at Riverrun, what you can't take with you, burn.

I along with Ser Brynden will take the bulk of our force and take more fortified positions to operate from. Lord Umber will focus on the gold supply, and Lady Mormont will take the forces of Bear Island alongside two-hundred men from winter town to bolster her numbers and raid around near Casterly Rock. That should keep Ser Devan occupied and put more pressure on Tywin to march west out of Harrenhall." _Now the other matter_. "Alongside the good lady, I plan to send Jon Snow to act as her second."

There was a moment of silence among his council as he declared in intention. Lord Karstark's face nearly turned red at that, while Ser Bryden let out a quiet sigh. _They mistrust him, but he is my brother, and he's proven himself in battle. I need commanders loyal as him, and for that, he needs to help command._

"Your Grace—" Lord Karstark began, but Robb quickly cut him off.

"He's proven himself on the field, and he is the son of my father Eddard Stark. He wants Lannister's to pay as much as any of us, I will not hear anymore on this matter. He abandoned on Mormont, I see why he shouldn't be made to serve under another, and I am certain that the good lady can handle my brother."

There was a long pause before Karstark let out a loud huff. "If that will be all, _your Grace._ "

"Yes," Robb decided. "You may all take your leave." _How far will Karstark go with his slights before I should make an example of him?_

One by one they left to room until it was only his great uncle and he remained. Studying the map, he could feel the old man's eyes upon him, despite his crown Robb still felt small under his gaze, though he didn't show it.

"You're giving him too much too soon." The Blackfish finally declared.

"He's paid for his desertion with a whip, and he got found us a path through the mountains. Along with slaying Ser Stafford, the victory at Oxcross is as much his doing as it is mine."

Brynden snorted at that. "You are really giving him too much credit. You drew up the battle plans, he was simply another sword in the fight. You'd have found that path without his wolf, I don't doubt Grey Wind didn't find it just as soon as his pup did, and Karstark would have killed Stafford as surely as Snow did."

 _He's not wrong._ "My mind is made up; Jon will go with the Lady Mormont and prove himself capable."

"Clearly, it's not you who needs swaying, I and every lord under your command know you favor him, but you might state it too boldly. Where he, not a deserter of the Watch he'd be hailed as a hero, but the fact is he's mistrusted."

"I grow tired of this conversation. I will hear no more of it."

"As you say, your Grace." With a bow the Blackfish was gone, leaving Robb alone with naught but his thoughts.

As the evening drew Robb found himself walking across the muddy field of the battlefield, Grey Wind at his hip. Piles of bodies had been made as men carted logs of wood as they built pyres for the dead, stripping the dead of whatever they had of use. There was a great gathering of crows as they flew about, peeking at the dead flesh as silent sisters walked from body to body performing the duty of their order. The stench of the dead burned the nose, no matter how many battles Robb partook in he doubted he'd ever grow accustomed to the smell of rot.

Following the line where the Lannister camp once stood, Robb saw his brother sitting upon the broken remains of a cart taking a grindstone to his sword with Ghost lingering at his side. Looking up Jon saw him, his expression grim and sullen. Approaching, the King in the North reached out his hand as Ghost rose to sniff at it before giving his fingers tensive lapping with his rough tongue.

"I've heard you slew near twenty men in the battle."

"Twenty, thirty, I didn't keep count past five," Jon replied, though he seemed no pride in his words. "Most of them didn't even swing a sword, some didn't even _have_ a sword when I slew them. Aside from Ser Stafford, there was very little fight in those who did clash with me."

"Did it bother you then? The killing?" Robb asked, remembering the first man he'd taken at the Whispering Wood, one of the men who'd taken part in the Kingslayer's charge. _I'd seen his eyes in my dreams that night_ , Robb recalled.

"No," Jon admitted, "and in some ways, I feel like that's worse than feeling regret over it."

Robb nodded, "This is war, men die bloody, it's not like the songs or the stories father would tell. Honor is oft lost in the melee, what matters is coming out whole in the end."

Jon looked about, "You really shouldn't walk alone, you are a king after all."

Robb shrugged. "I doubt any many would be foolish enough to pull a blade with Ghost so near, and Grey Wind is lurking somewhere near as well. Besides, I am the king I can do as I please."

"As you say," Jon replied as he inspected his blade; seeming satisfied with his handy work he placed it back into his blade moleskin scabbard and rose. "Is there anything else, your Grace?"

"Yes, I've decided to place you directly under the command of Lady Mormont. You will serve as her second helping her in raiding the countryside. I'd have you go meet with her this evening." Robb flexed his hand.

"Why Lady Mormont?" Jon seemed tense at the thought of serving under the family of the head of his previous charge.

"As I see it you owe a debt to House Mormont, regain some honor by serving her. I doubt she'll have any love for you but prove yourself honorable. Prove yourself to the northern lords, if not your own sake, then for mine."

Hearing the familiar pattern of feet Robb looked over his shoulder as he watched Grey Wind come striding to his side. Placing his hand upon the tufts of his hair Robb felt whole as with his wolf at his side.

"I have my protection with me once more." Robb smiled, "I must attend to Ser Stevron and Lord Glove."

Jon gave a slight bow before Robb watched him leave, Ghost with him. _I wish him good fortune; gods know my lords won't._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **School is almost over, so is sports, so I might have more time to write. Sorry for the long delay before chapters.**

 **Q &A time.**

Natzo- Mormont is kinda right, this is one more dishonorable decision that could affect Robb, but people are very hypocritical about the vows of the Night's Watch. Let's be honest, right now it's a penal colony and the desertion is more important should they had been sent there for a crime instead of willingly like Jon. It's not like the North actually CARES for the Night's Watch. Only House Stark.

 **That's the point, Jon is more of a crunch than a help to Robb at this stage of the game. To most of them he's the honorable Eddard Stark's shame, and on top of that now he's a deserter of the Night's Watch and yet Robb's giving him leniency. The point isn't really that he left the watch, it's that he broke vows, which give less credence to any vows he might give in the future. Also, the lords don't really have any reason to trust Jon at this point, aside from their king telling them to do so.**

GodofKrypton- I'm interested in a conversation between Catelyn & Jon, besides Catelyn's moment in grief we know very little about their relationship outside of the thoughts of each other's POVs.

 **Cat and Jon won't meet until further into the war, she's still down treating with Renly and Jon's stuck in the Westerland's fighting with his brother. It'll be a bit before we have any interaction between the two of them.**

 **If there's any POVs you guys want to see I can try and work them in. Right now it's just Jon, Robb, Bran, and Samwell with a few others already planned for down the road. Keep in mind that a lot of other events are going to be left unchanged (mainly the King's Landing plot line). Thanks!**

 **-AA**


	5. Chapter Five

**DISCLAIMER:**

 **A Song of Ice and Fire, along with all its content and characters, is the property of George R.R. Martin and licensed by HBO. Please support the original material.**

* * *

 **Chapter Five:**

 **JON**

The hilly countryside of the Westerlands sprawled out before Jon as he sat atop his black steed. It was a land of rolling hills and vast fields full of grain and cattle, of which Lady Mormont had taken a liking to. To his left, Jon could see the hundreds of grazing cattle that they had taken from the smallfolk in the name of Robb.

Lady Mormont's host had come upon village after village, and to Jon, it was shocking at the difference the south held to that of the north. It was hotter here than it had been in Riverlands, and there had not been any rain since the Ox Cross. The country was green and flowed from forest to plain to rugged hills. Jon thought that there would be a chill in the air at Winterfell, and thick fall snows on the Wall.

Reminded of his broken vows, Jon scowled as he urged his chestnut mount onward. It had been just over six days since he'd left with the Lady of Bear Island alongside their sizable host of three-hundred riders. In that time the Lady Mormont had insisted they drive every cattle within two hundred miles of Casterly Rock back toward the Riverlands.

"We'll starve out these bastards of meat and grain, leave their lands empty with naught but the gold in their halls to fill their bellies! Meanwhile, we'll feast in Riverrun for on Lannister cattle until winter comes!" She'd boosted.

 _We've no hope to drive this stampede of cattle past the Golden Tooth,_ Jon thought sullenly. He'd recalled saying as much to Lady Maege Mormont, but she quickly put him down.

"I am in command here you welp! You're lucky the King didn't send you back to my brother. By the gods, I'd have sent you back to him myself if I could've!"

 _It was a mistake for Robb to send put me under this woman,_ Jon thought bitterly.

Looking toward the horde of cattle Jon spied Ghost as his wolf helped to drive the herd forward. Jon had sent his direwolf to the task, keeping the dumb cattle in line and packed together. Jon thought the road rough, though they had not wanted for food, if they should have been hungry, he'd need only butcher one or two of the cattle, though they'd needed to lead the animal away from the herd to avoid panicking the others.

It had been slow moving, and they had not been given battle, the nearest thing to it had been the handful of smallfolk who'd been fool enough to try and stop their band from taking their cattle. Jon had watched as a farmer had tried to protect his livestock, the man had brandished nothing more than a wood ax before he'd rushed a Mormont bannerman. He didn't make it more than five paces from the man before his belly was opened with a thrust from a lance. Jon watched the poor man bleed to death in the dirt, his three sons too frightened to attempt to do much more than lay curses of the Seven upon them.

"We don't follow the Seven," a Winter town man had replied with a hearty laugh. The memory made Jon feel cruel but had done nothing.

 _This is war, if I try to defend villager and fool farmer, I'll fight nearly half of the men in the North,_ Jon told himself. _If they punished men by the laws of men in war the headsmen of Westeros would never sleep, and the Wall would have more men than any army in the Seven Kingdoms._

As Jon arrived at the head of the column, he once again found himself alongside the _good_ Lady Mormont. Looking over at him, the Lady of Bear Island acknowledged him with a stiff tut. "That wolf of yours has been mighty helpful, might be we'd take longer to reach the Tooth without him. Even if he does eat damn near a whole cow on his own, small price I say!" The lady boomed.

"My Lady, I would be remised if I did not keep pointing out that the Golden Too ––"

"You've said made you're thoughts known well enough Snow, I don't need an oathbreaker to remind me that the Lord Lefford still holds the castle and the hill road with it, but your wolf got King Robb and our army through the mountain pass, I don't see why we can't manage two hundred."

"An army of six thousand men is one thing, but cattle are dumb and slow, and a herd of this size will likely take days, perhaps even a week to trek through the mountain, and we're likely to kill more of them than we are to shepherd back to Lord Edmure at Riverrun," Jon argued though he felt his words wasted on the stubborn sister of the Lord Commander. "If we're to pursue such folly we'd be better off just driving most of the herd off some cliff and sending a handful of men to take a sizable number, perhaps two hundred, and sending them off to feed Robb's host."

There was a long moment as the Lady seemed to ponder his words, though Jon had little hope of her agreeing to his plan. Opening her mouth, the Lady seemed ready to rebuke him once more, but there then came a crew ahead. Looking, Jon watched a man came riding toward them his horse in full gallop. Jon knew him to be one of the scouts they'd send out ahead of them. He was a lean looking man, no older than one and twenty, his hair a dark long dark oily mop on his head. Jon recalled the men had called him Hardbuck, though Jon didn't know the story behind the name.

"M'lady!" Hardbuck came shouting as he pulled his horse to an abrupt stop, the horse letting out a cry that made a few of the cattle nervous. "Riders are approaching from the west!"

"How many?" Lady Mormont demanded, her hand flying to the ax at her side.

"Perhaps two and a half or three hundred mounted men," Hardbuck declared. "I saw their leader flying the Lannister lion, alongside a Boar running on a field of brown m'lady."

Jon fought hard to recall the banners of the Sothern lords; he'd known all the Northern sigils by hearts, Lewin had seen to that, but he'd not been too familiar every house. It took Jon a moment, longer than he'd have liked before it had come to him. "House Crakehall?" Jon mused. "I thought I heard something about their lord dying in Ox Cross?"

"Rumors," Lady Mormont spat. "Unfounded, we never found his body, unless he's come back as some fiend to avenge his men and himself."

"How far behind you are they?" Jon demanded.

"A mile or so behind me if I was any judge, they will be on us at any moment, m'lord." Jon thought to blurt out that he was no lord, he'd had enough of men calling him ' _Lord_ Snow' pm the wall that grown used to the phrase, though it still vexed him.

"Run word down the rest of the column!" Bowing his head, Hardbuck did the good lady commanded, driving his horse down the line shouting out as men mounted their horses and brandished their swords and lances. "Ser Gage," Lady Maege called before the knight rode up beside her.

"My Lady," The knight nodded, his sword and shield already in hand.

Thinking back, Jon had seen the man on the lower benches with him, but he couldn't recall having spoken to the man at Winterfell. He knew Ser Gage to be sworn to the service of House Cerwyn. The knight was a tall man, a head above Jon in stature and twice his senior with a thick auburn beard that curling up on the pale hard features of his face. In defiance of his beard, Ser Gage's head was thin and balding, Jon supposed it was the reason the knight near always had a helm atop his head. Jon had seen the man many a time before at Winterfell when Lord Cley Cerwyn had come to partake in a feast where he'd sat at his lord father's table.

"You will take fifty of the men and from the left flank," she bid him before looking to Jon. "Oathbreaker, you will take another fifty and form up the right, the rest will be with me at the center." Pulling at her belt the lady removed the spiked mace from her belt with a smirk. "We'll shepherd this boar to their southern gods."

With a nod, Ser Gage was off gathering up a contingent of men. Jon turned and eyed thousands of cattle, his thoughts returning to Ox Cross where Lannister men had been trampled to death their own horses in the craze Greywind and Ghost had made in the charge. _If these beasts get going, they could kill us all in their stampede._

"My Lady," Jon called. "We should drive the cattle into their line and crush them in the confusion! Like Robb did at Ox Cross with Lannister horses."

Frowning, Lady Mormont looked at the host of cattle grazing in the field for a moment before pulling at her reigns. "No, we'll meet them in the field, we're likely to scatter the herd if we send them charging at Lord Crakehall."

Jon opened his mouth to protest, but the lady had already left, riding down the collecting her center. With a curse, Jon pulled his sword and went riding down, gathering men to him. It took him a moment to gather up his riders and form the right wing of their formation.

With a sharp high-pitched whistle, Jon beckoned Ghost to his side. Bounding across the green hills the direwolf came alongside his horse, his crimson eyes looking across the field. Gripping his blade tight in hand, Jon looked around as his men had taken their places in their formation. Shouting commands, Jon looked to Lady Mormont who had taken her head of the center. She'd dawned an iron helm that matched the thick mail that covered her gambeson coat. She looked old and fierce, her eyes looking over to a tree line from which the Lannister bannermen rode from that was no more than five hundred yards away.

Steeling himself, Jon heard the thundering beat of horses in the distance, the cry of war horses and the shouts of men eager to give battle. The sound of the impending battle grew nearer and nearer until at last the Crakehall men burst through the tree line. The men of House Crakehall were dawned in black oily chain mail with crimson cloth signifying their loyalty to House Lannister. Jon saw that the enemy was spread into a triangular formation, their commander, a man dawned in full plate armor with a helm that had the husks of a boar jutting out near the eye slits lead the charge. Jon assumed the man to be Lord Crakehall leading his men at the front.

With a loud cry of "Here we stand!", Lady Mormont sent her horse into a gallop to meet the coming charge. In reply, Jon rose his sword before him and let out "For Winterfell!" that was echoed by his men with a cheer before he took his men forward to meet steel with steel.

The Charge seemed to take only moments, as the two forces came on each other at full speed. Jon had all but a moment to clear find his target before he'd swung his sword at the first mounted man that came to him, his blow catching the man in the neck before he'd been able to wheel his blade around. The next few moments were a blur as Jon blocked strikes from men to his head and sword arm. Stabbing at a Crakeman rider banishing a lance, Jon pushed his sword through the man's neck sending crimson blood gushing forth like a fountain.

The chaos of battle raged as horses and men died in droves, Jon was vaguely aware of Ghost as his direwolf rushed nearby, slaying fallen men and bringing horses down to the dusty earth with terrifying death throws. Stabbing another man in his shoulder, Jon heard his horse let out a loud winy before it started to jump back onto its hind legs. Jon had only enough time to catch the glimpse of a man driving a spear into his mount before he was thrown from his saddle and sent sprawling hard to the dirt below.

Jon felt a sharp stinging pain in his arm as the wind rushed from his lungs as he met the ground. Fighting for air, Jon felt his mind rush as his gut spammed and his shoulder ached. Panicked, he realized he'd lost his sword in his fall. Sucking in a deep breath, Jon let out a cough and started to scan for his sword but saw that a rider was coming at him fast. Jumping to his feet, the bastard of Winterfell had only jumped a moment before the Crakehall rider had swung, missing him his chest by inches. Pulling out the dagger at his side, Jon wheeled his head around, until he spotted a Lannister man crawling for a sword. Running toward him, Jon grabbed the man by the collar of his mail just as his fingers gripped the hilt of the blade and drove his knife into the back of his neck.

Ignoring the gurgling of his fallen foe, Jon took his weapon and turned to see a man with his sword raised, ready to strike him down. Mid downswing, a blur of white pasted by Jon and the man was put on his ass as Ghost bit down hard on his sword arm. Jon came up behind his dire wolf and thrust his blade down into the screaming man's throat ending his life.

Looking around Jon saw that the mess of battle was looking ill for their quarry. Crakehall in the distance, Jon saw another line of horses waiting at the tree line, some fifty more men. _The scout was wrong, they must have had a small reserve behind their main force to mop us up after in case the first charge hadn't broken us,_ Jon thought.

Looking to his blood splattered friend, Jon got an idea, though he thought it a little made. "Ghost, go to the cattle!" He commanded, hoping beyond hope that the wolf might understand his meaning. Looking around Ghost seemed to only be looking for his next pray that he might fall. Hearing a man come on his, Jon turned and quickly parried his blow before cutting him open. With a curse, Jon did all that he could think of, he reached out to ghost as if it were one of his dreams.

 _If I can see through his eyes in a dream, perhaps,_ Jon thought, though he was unsure of himself.

Focusing hard, Jon thought of Ghost, pushed his mind hard, and more a moment, there was nothing, but then he felt as if something else had brushed against his mind. Jon clung to the feeling, though it was hard for him to focus on it with all that was going on around him. Straining, Jon projected an image of the herd of cattle and then thought of them being sent tumbling into the enemy's line. It was all Jon had to keep that thought going, pressing it toward whatever he was connecting with, though he felt a fool for even trying such a thing. Jon had only a moment longer to focus before he felt his head swim and he let the feeling vanish and, at that moment, he felt as though he'd come back into himself, as though he'd been away from his body for a moment.

Upon his return, Jon found that he'd fallen to a knee, as he looked around, he saw that two Stark men had taken up positions beside him. "Commander, are you alright?" One of them asked while the other fended off a would-be attacker.

Looking around Jon saw that most of the Crakehall cavalry had fallen back to the tree line where they had reformed with their reinforcements. Only the soldiers who'd fallen from their horses were remaining in the fray now.

"Just lost my footing is all," Jon insisted before looking around to the remaining men of his flank. "We need to reform before they charge in. If we stay scattered like this, we'll be slaughtered." Looking around Jon saw that the men had been scattered in the clash before turning back to the man at his side. "Run an order down the line to gather up her on me," He ordered. "And bring me a horse!"

"Aye, M'lord." The man replied before he was running off shouting.

It didn't take long before his troops had regrouped, Jon ordered those without a horse to take lances and pikes and form up behind his cavalry. "Once we've broken their momentum fall their horses." He commanded them.

No sooner had Jon climbed atop his fresh horse than had the Crakehall men let out another shout as they readied their final charge. Gripping the sword in his hand, Jon gave a silent prayer to the old gods. "Ready the charge!"

Jon watched as his enemies came riding toward him. As Jon was about to open his mouth to sound his charge, he felt the ground beneath him start to shake. It took a moment for Jon to figure out what was happening, until the realization of what was happening washed over him. Looking Jon watched as a cloud of dust billowed up as a mad rush of cattle came rushing past his flank and came crashing straight toward the Crakehall line.

The Jon could see a look of terror sweep through the charging enemy as the men pulled their horses to a halt and tried to turn away from the panicked horde. As they did so, the confusion had men falling from their mounts, crashing into one another and becoming a jumbled mess as their own horses began to panic.

Jon watched as the stampeding cattle came upon the men, washing them into the thousands of cattle as they broke them underfoot. Jon sat astonished as they passed by, leaving them engulfed in the cloud of dust they left behind, the thunder of their hoofs filling the countryside.

It took several minutes until the stamped had passed by, and when the dust settled, Jon saw the remains of trampled men laying in their path. The few lucky souls even managed to remain a horse.

Not one to waste such an opening, Jon let out a sharp command. "Charge, rout them!"

Digging his heels into his horse, Jon spurred forward with a battle cry as his flank crashed into the decimated remains of the Crakehall army. As Jon closed in, he saw that Ser Gage's flank had done the same. Encircling the scattered and dying men, the Northern forces crashed upon them. Jon slew a man as they picked off the men around them.

The Crakehall men quickly lost heart as the few men who'd survived the stampede had thrown down their steel and began to plead for mercy. Round his horse, Jon gave orders to have the survivors to be bound and grouped together.

"Take their armor and swords, we will decide what is to be done with them soon enough."

Trotting over to Ser Gage, Jon saw that he'd suffered a gash to his forehead that had coated his face in a dark crimson. Jon thought he looked pale, though he seemed to pay his injury no mind as he hailed Jon.

"Where is Lady Mormont?" Jon asked as he scanned the field. If he any judge he would say that nearly a quarter of their forces had been slain in the fighting, perhaps more.

"I don't know," Ser Gage admitted hoarsely. "I caught a glimpse of her and Lord Crakehall fighting in the center, but I can't say what became of them."

"Need to find her," Jon declared. "And Lord Crakehall if he yet lives. One of Tywin's bannermen will be a valuable prisoner to exchange."

It had taken alone while of wading through the bodies before at last Lady Mormont had been found lying alongside her fallen horse. Several feet away was Lord Crakehall coughing weakly between groans of pain, his right leg pinned under his own horse with Lady Mormont's spiked mace buried in the side of his breastplate. Jon had found him alive, though he seemed to be barely clinging to continuous. On the other hand, Lady Mormont was even worse off.

The Lady of Bear Island had taken a cut to the side of her neck that bleed furiously. She seemed to be white as snow, though by some miracle she stubbornly clung to life. Clutching her wound, her eyes hung half open as Jon knelt next to her with Ser Gage at his back.

"Snow," She said so quietly that Jon had to come only a few inches from her to hear her clear enough to distinguish the words. "My daughter –" the lady began before spitting up blood, as she gasped for air.

"My Lady?"

"My daughter – my bones."

"You're too suborn to die," Jon insisted, but even as the words left his mouth, he heard her let out a last gasp. Jon watched as her eyes glazed over.

Jon ordered the bodies of the dead be burnt and the wounded loaded onto carts. Jon had the body of Maege Mormont wrapped in a Mormont cloak and put her dead to rest.

It was evening by the time all the dead had been counted, in all forty-five Northmen had been slain, and another twenty where badly injured. The armor and weapons of the had been loaded onto carts along with the wounded, as Jon decided to send the arms to Robb at Ashemark and Lady Mormont's bones back to Riverrun so that they might be taken North.

"We should rejoin with the king's forces," Ser Gage suggested. "The men of Bear Island wish to see their lady's bones safely home or to rejoin her daughter with King Robb."

"I agree. We should send a number to escort with Maege Mormont's body and the weapons," Jon agreed. "But perhaps we could still be of more use to Robb here. The more we harass away from Robb, the more spread the Lannisters will need to be."

"What do you suggest?"

With a smile, Jon looked west.

* * *

 **CATELYN**

Jon Snow was alive.

When she'd left Riverrun Catelyn had counseled her son to give Ned's bastard son a king's justice. "He's an oathbreaker, Robb. Remember what your father did to those who deserted the watch," she'd reminded him. "Do what is honorable."

 _I'd hoped to be rid of him,_ Catelyn admitted to herself. Though she doubted Ned would have done what she'd asked of Robb. A sense of spite filled her at the thought of his one and only betrayal she'd suffered at his hands. _He loved her fiercely, and I hated his bastard for it._

News had reached Riverrun of the Battle of Ox Cross, and news of the Battle of trampled Hog. The ill news of Lady Mormont's dead and news of Jon Snow leading the remainder of her host made her sour even worse. _Gods be good, he'll serve my son well… and die bringing him back the honor he's cost us._

Her father was dying, and she'd seen her beloved husband's bones depart for Winterfell earlier that day. Thoughts of Bran and Rickon filled her heart. _Their father returns, but they will only see his face in stone now._ It was hard not to ride with them. Part of her wished for nothing more than to hold onto her two little boys, to comfort her little Rickon and sit beside her broken boy, to watch them grow.

 _I must be here for Robb; I must help him however I can. My place is here._ She repeated the words in her mind once more.

With Robb in the south, and her brother preparing to march on Tywin Lannister while her father was nearing his final hours. Catelyn felt adrift, a sense of hopeless clouded her mind as she sat quietly contemplating their position. She wished for her Uncle, and for her son to return from the west. For them to ride with Edmure and crush the Lion as her brother hoped.

"My lady," Catelyn turned to see Brienne standing at her door. "May I enter?"

"Of course," Catelyn turned gesturing to a seat by the door. "You may sit if you like."

"I am grateful, but I'll not be bothering you long."

"Very well, what would you have of me lady Brienne?" The blue-eyed girl frond a bit at the word lady, but Catelyn paid it no mind.

"I would ask for one of the men of your house to spare with. I'm afraid no one will have me willingly, I would practice my swordplay alone, but wooden posts make poor practice I'm afraid."

Catelyn couldn't help but smile at that. "You've been kind enough to tolerate gowns and such. I suppose it'd be impossible to ask you to wear them at every hour of the day."

 _She reminds me so much of Arya._ The thought of her rambunctious daughter made her heart heavy. _I fear for her more at court than I do Sansa, though I pray to the gods that they return to me unharmed._

"I will give you a man to spare with. Perhaps Hal Mollen, though he'll not love me for it."

"I thank you, my lady," Brienne said giving an awkward bow in her blue gown before turning to leave. _She is more graceful in armor than a dress,_ Catelyn mused.

Alone, Catelyn Stark returned to her thoughts of her father dying father, the treachery of the Lannister's, the latest of their dishonorable notions being the attempt to free the Kingslayer, and of her children in Winterfell. Turned back to her desk, and to her letters, taking her quill to paper, she wrote sweet words of to her children, praying to both the old gods and new for her son, her king, Robb.

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 **A/N:**

 **Firstly, I'm looking for a Beta reader. Thought I'd ask here since it seems impossible to get ahold of anyone through FF beta finder. If you're interested in helping to develop the story and get access to the work early, plus speed up the process, let me know!**

 **Anywho, a new chapter. Okay, I know I've said this before, but the NEXT thing I put out will be the next chapter for "The White Dragon", I've just had writer's block on that story for nearly a year coming now.**

 **Also, I'm going to rant about GoT. These past four seasons have been pretty shitty. Seasons 5 and 6 were passable as far as average TV viewing goes, but seasons 7 and mainly 8 have just ruined the great work that was seasons 1-4 for me. I can tell you right now, nothing, and I mean NOTHING about that past season made sense within the context of the story. Sure, some of the plot points might be the same in the books (when they come out) but the HOW will be completely different. The "long" night will be a lot longer, the rest of the story is just supposed to be the GRRM's version of the scouring of the Shire in order to wrap up the rest of his story. Overall, it just so sad how they treated "I don't want it" Jon/Aegon Targaryen and company. 1/10.**

 **Anyway, off to reply to reviews.**

Guest chapter 4 . Apr 28

They are THEY'RE Not there and not their.! ..when we GO to leave.. not make. Possibly ...when we make ready to leave... Robb GLEANED little from the PILES of... ...old Frey has COME DOWN with a fever... ...I'd rather have their heads... Robb looked over the MAP... ...will be ASSEMBLED back at Riverrun... ...face nearly turned RED at that... not read... ...and he found us a path... what about Arya?

 **Yes, my grammar is horrible. I've been trying to find a beta reader for weeks now and have so far had** _**zero**_ **luck with FF beta finder.**

Guest chapter 2 . Apr 28

Fuck Lady Stark! She started the damn War when she kidnapped Tyrion! That gave Tywin the jump on everyone else! Most of this is her fault!

 **Cat had a lot of issues, and like nearly everyone in the books, she's not perfect. Catelyn was acting off of what she thought was good information as to who had tried to murder her son. Based on what her sister had written to her she was doing the right thing at the time. She was just being manipulated by Littlefinger to start the war between the Lannisters and Starks, so in reality, she was only manipulated by her childhood friend into helping start the war. She was tricked just like Ned was.**

Oc chapter 1 . Apr 30

How about you make dragonwolf prince into Night King such story is interesting and cool to with powers of Winter and Darkness plus white walkers and wights and free folk and giants and animals our dragonwolf prince Night King would and will fix this entire messed up world.

 **The Night King is an invention of the TV show, the closest thing in the books is the NIGHTS King, and he was just a man (either a Stark or Bolton depending on who you ask). So far as we know the leader of the Others would be the Great Other, and he's only a myth/legend, for all we know the Others don't have some special leader that's a walking self destruct button (which I can bet you if there is a Great Other he's nothing like his shitty TV rip off).**

Hadrian Eveningshade chapter 4 . Apr 28

Jon cannot became king, lord or anything else. Oathbeaker... Yes, he had his reason, but he is still oath breaker. If he cannot keep his oath, he doesnt deserve to rise as a leader.

 **Outside of the North no one really gives a shit about the Night's Watch. Sure, people will always remeber that Jon broke is vow to the watch, but that doesn't mean he can't still become a leader eventually. It's not like the Northern lords aren't giving Jon shit about his status as a oathbreaker, but regardless he's the blood the their king and he's been pardoned of his vows.**

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 **Story Edit Notes:**

 **Removed reference to wights at Castle Black in Jon's thoughts. Forgot that in my timeline their was no wight attack on the castle.**

 **Removed reference to Jon having a burnt hand for the same reason.  
**


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